Everybody Dies
by ThePotterDoctor
Summary: When Clara Oswald meets mysterious stranger Jake Hunt, her life changes forever. She finds herself pulled into the chaos of a group of refined planetary defenders and amongst them, the Doctor. However, under the surface, tension is brewing. Traitors, assassins and a blossoming romance. Is Clara in too deep? Whouffle AU - Rated M for swearing, violence and language
1. Chapter 1: The Encounter

***Hey everyone! Before I launch into this A/N, I need to say an absolutely enormous thank you to my wonderful beta CountingAllTheStars, who has a new fic out today which you all need to read. Without her help, support, guidance and friendship, this fic wouldn't be the fic that it is currently. **

**So, I'm back! Hello to all my old friends, you know the drill by now. For those of you who are new to this, I'll be posting a chapter every day, between the hours of 3 and 7, usually hugging the 5pm GMT mark depending on my whimsy. So new AU and this is a big one. There's going to be a lot of action and violence, plenty of betrayal and intrigue, my all time favourite OC who I hope you'll love and more than just a dash of everyone's favourite ship: Whouffle! But, fair warning, the kid gloves are off. This is going to be brutal. As ever, thanks in advance to everyone who reads, reviews, follows and favourites, I hope you enjoy it! And I'll see you tomorrow! TPD***

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Clara Oswald had heard the stories. Everybody had. There had been a time when they were just stories, drifting from town to town, little more than rumours. Reports were covered up, they always were, but the stories travelled until it became impossible to cover up. Clara had spent most of her adult life listening to the rumours, listening to the whispers. And then, five years ago, rumours became facts, stories became truths, and people were taken seriously. It wasn't a gas leak that had blown up that block of flats, it was him. It wasn't terrorists that set off bombs in the underground, killing hundreds of people, it was him. It wasn't drunken teenagers who had fallen in with the wrong crowd that had gotten their hands on submachine guns that had shot out that shopping centre, it was him.

And it wasn't just England either. You'd hear reports on the news of oil rigs blowing up, or missiles taking out the Chinese military with no confirmed source or an entire American state's power grid being obliterated. It was all him. Whether it was him or not was irrelevant, because that was what people thought now. After the one confirmed sighting. The one public sighting. Hundreds of people claimed to have seen him and his team. The ragtag bunch of strangers that had followed him. But only once had the news been there, captured it, flashed his image across the world. The skinny idiot with hair as black as night, eyes the colour of melted chocolate, dressed in grey, tussling with a giant lizard monster, whilst a spaceship bombed the city. Clara had seen it of course, everyone had. She had been less than ten miles away at the time, cowering under her kitchen table, praying that the world didn't end as the explosions rocked London.

The world didn't end, it began. The spaceship crashed. Nobody knew what was wrong with it, but it had come colliding down, killing thousands and the man had vanished. The spaceship had disappeared, the government had said nothing about it, but everyone knew the truth. He was out there. Everyone who had met him insisted that he was an angel, protecting the world from that which we weren't ready for. But Clara didn't buy it. She didn't buy that one man, dressed like a street punk could change the world.

There were reports of more of them of course. The red head. The mousy one. The crazy one. And the one with the funny dress sense. But he was always there. The one that they all assumed was the leader. After that first sighting, five years previous, Clara's father had asked her to come back to Blackpool and find work as a teacher there. She put on a brave face, but the truth was, she was glad to be out of the capital. She felt safer up in Blackpool. Clara had been a 'woe is me' kind of person, even after her mother had died. She had just got on with life, eventually, because she had no other choice. When their mum had died, Angie and Artie had needed her, and she had been there. Now, the world was changing again and Clara was determined to not let it get to her.

He was seen again, over the next five years. Only a handful of times publically, once with the one that people referred to as the red head, for obvious reasons. Another time with the one they called the funnily dressed one. Clara did have to admit that the purple jacket and bow tie were a bit conspicuous, but she still referred to him as the big-chinned one in her head. But it was the private signings, the ones that didn't go global; that only the people there could claim was real. Clara was inherently sceptical whenever she saw someone on the local or national news, claiming to have seen him; because it was just as likely that there was a sensible explanation or that these people were just after a moment in the Sun. She never considered that it could happen to her. Never her. She didn't live in London, or New York, or some other big city. She lived in a small village on the outskirts of Blackpool, where nothing ever happened and nobody ever considered him. The only time anybody ever talked about him was when someone from Blackpool appeared on the local news, claiming he'd stolen her cat or something.

Clara was twenty-seven when it happened. When the thing she had told herself would never happen, happened. She had an encounter. The encounter, she would go back to refer to it as. She would never forget the date. The date that had changed her life. The 17th of April 2014. The day that her whole life changed. She didn't like to say that that was when her life began, as that would devalue the first twenty-seven and a half years of her life, but that wouldn't be far from the truth. It also wouldn't be far from the truth to say that that was the day when her life ended.

It had begun just like any other day. Clara woke up and made herself a cup of tea. Milk, two sugars, just the way that she always liked it. She made herself some toast and munched on it whilst watching the news. She wasn't looking for anything in particular and nothing of any interest came up. Economy, plane crash, sports, new Jennifer Lawrence film. The epitome of boring. Clara stripped out of her pyjamas and showered, the hot water undoing some of the hard work that her tea had done in waking her up. Then she chose a dress, red and white polka dots. It was her favourite. It felt like that sort of day. She looked in the mirror, applied minimal makeup, begrudged her hair the fact that it was the most boring length and shade of brown as it hung apologetically by her shoulders, checked that she had everything that she needed for work that morning, and then headed out.

And it carried on just like any other day. She reached school ten minutes early, just as she always did, so said hi to her friends Tom and Danny as she made a fresh cup of tea, lamenting the fact that school made tea was vastly inferior to homemade tea and that the bitch from classroom 12b had stolen her favourite mug. Again. They just rolled their eyes at this. They were used to dealing with Clara's Tuesday morning moaning.

Year 8s up first, a playful and irritating, but essentially harmless easy to control class, which couldn't be said for the vile year 11s that she had afterwards. If she could get through the year without one of them successfully exposing her breasts, it would be a miracle, as one of them made a grab when she got too close. Detention seemed like a fairly tame punishment, as they all seemed willing to risk it for a shot at touching her breast. She highly doubted any of them would ever see a girl's breast without paying for it, but she kept her mouth shut and just shot them steely glares when she passed.

After break, she thankfully had her 12s, who over the course of less than a year, had mercifully managed to outgrow their childish and disgustingly sexist habits and were both well-mannered and vaguely interested in the subject. And she had them for a double. Thank heavens for small mercies. After that it was lunch and Clara called her dad to check in, as she did every Tuesday lunchtime. And he was fine, as he was every Tuesday lunchtime and asked her if she'd found a nice boy yet. She informed him that she had more than enough boys making plays at her without inviting them on. She was single and she was happy and that was all that there was to it. She'd slept around a bit when she was in her late teens and early twenties and didn't regret it for a second, as she'd had a lot of fun, but now she was older, she just wanted to find the right person and until they appeared, she was fine the way she was. She didn't even want a cat to look after, let alone a fully functioning human being.

After lunch, she had year 9, which was a mildly annoying but tolerable class, which hadn't yet reached the age of boob-grabbing, so she could appreciate that, followed by year 13. This was Clara's favourite class, as there were only 7 of them and they were so deeply into her subject that three of them were going to do degrees in it. This meant that they were not only intelligent, but willing to share their own views on books, rather than having it spoon fed to them. If there was one part of teaching that Clara loved, it was when she didn't have to spoon feed. If she'd known that this would be the last time that she'd ever be teaching, she might have put a little more effort in, but she was tired and they were tired and so she let them pack up five minutes early, as she almost always did on a Tuesday afternoon, their last lesson of the day.

She stayed until just gone 5, finishing off her work, as with every other Tuesday. Then, she went home, made herself a nice meal for one (spag bol) and showered, changing into a more casual jeans and jacket for drinks, tying her hair up into a bun. Every Tuesday, she would go out for drinks with Danny and Tom, with a varying array of other teachers occasionally joining. It was always a laugh, as Danny and Tom tried to impress her with their dreadful flirting and pool playing and they would claim that if they could beat Clara at pool, she would have to buy them a drink, but of course they both lost consistently and they all had a few jokes about it. So sure enough, as half 6 rolled around, Clara applied her lip gloss, threw it into her handbag and set off. It was ten minute walk to the pub and, as they were every week, Danny and Tom were involved in an intense game of pool when she got there. Tom greeted her with a wave, as Danny scuffed his shot and swore, greeting Clara with a sheepish grin as she giggled at his failed shot.

"I take it Tom's kicking your arse?" she asked smugly, examining the state of play on the table as Tom moved onto the black and then dispatched it with a sigh of relief and Danny hung his head. "Or should I say, kicked your arse, past tense."

Danny had the good grace not to respond, he merely sipped his pint as the bartender served Clara. He knew her well enough to know she'd order a large white wine and a pint each for Danny and Tom. They'd both be buying her drinks that they'd lose on the pool table for the rest of the evening, and she always felt bad that they bought her drinks, whether she'd earned them or not.

And so the evening passed in similar fashion to the way it always did. They drank, Clara won at pool, they all laughed and joked and a couple of teachers joined them for an hour or so. About 9, after four glasses of wine and three successive victories, Clara decided to call it a night. The boys offered to walk her home, she'd snort and tell them that if she needed help fending off a stray cat on the walk back, they'd be the first two people she'd call for help and then she was off, strolling home in the chilly dark of night.

When Clara had told them that she was only in danger from a stray cat, she hadn't been lying. There was no danger in her little village, as she knew almost everyone in town and rarely did anything happen. Blackpool itself was only a few miles away, but it felt like a whole world away. So she had not even a slight sense of apprehension as she walked home in the dark, with only the odd street lamp to illuminate her journey. She passed through the dark alleyway, the same way she always walked home, without even a second thought, until she reached the halfway point of the alley and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. There was something in the shadows.

As she edged nearer to it, her curiosity overtaking her fear, it became clear to her that it wasn't human. It slithered along and as it came into view, she would have screamed if someone hadn't wrapped their arm around her mouth and said in a very masculine and urgent voice: "Don't. Scream. You'll only antagonise it."

The creature was tall and muscular, but slimy. It seemed to ooze slime, as it left a trail behind it, like a snail. It had no head or limbs. Instead of limbs it had tentacles of varying length sprawling out from parts of its giant torso. It seemed to glide on them and Clara thought that it was a miracle that it could walk at all. The top of its torso opened out and it had what appeared to be a small neck, before it opened out into rows and rows of sharp, pointed teeth around the edges of its circular mouth. Clara was equally interested in the arm around her mouth, but she obeyed its owner's urgent warning, because if it was a choice between listening to it and not, when stared down by this monstrosity, then she chose listening. She didn't exactly trust the person gripping her, but neither did she have much choice in the matter.

"Okay," he hissed, for she was fairly sure that it was a male voice. "When I let go of you, run! Run as fast as you can and don't look back." His arm slacked and then dropped Clara completely. And she stumbled, not looking at him but keeping her eyes on the creature as she backed off, past him and towards the end of the alley. But she didn't run. Once again, after that brief flash, curiosity had overtaken fear and she stayed, lingering so that she could watch what happened next unfold.

The creature moved faster than she could have imagined anything that grotesque and tentacled could move, but impossibly, the man moved faster. Two jets of white light, so bright that they momentarily blinded Clara, shot from his wrists, crashing into the creature, one after the other. The creature let out an ungodly shriek, a noise so horrific, that Clara was surprised that everyone in the village wasn't running out of their homes to investigate. Then the creature slumped, the blows it had taken leaving it sprawled in front of the man. She assumed that it was dead and took a few, tentative steps towards him. He swirled to face her and looked confused for an instant before giving her a bright smile. He was skinny, stupidly skinny. And his hair was as black as the creature he had just killed. His eyes were just like Clara's, the colour of chocolate. He was dressed in black, but it was definitely him.

"You're the one," she murmured, approaching cautiously. "The one from the news."

"That's me," he said with a bright smile. "You alright?" It seemed like an insane question to ask, but Clara was absolutely fine. Physically anyway. So she ignored the question and asked the first thing that came into her mind.

"What is that thing?"

"No idea," he replied, that same, stupid, breezy smile on his face. "I've been tracking it for the best part of two hours, it moves stupidly fast for such a slippery bastard." She'd noticed. "Lost sight of it about twenty minutes ago, but luckily, I had put a tracker on it. Managed to follow it with this." He flashed her a handheld device which he slipped into his pocket. "Anyway, you'd best forget you ever saw me. Or go on the news and say about how I saved your life. I never care either way," he shrugged and Clara walked over determinedly, examining where he'd shot the thing. There were two small holes where the lights had gone into it.

"Who are you?" she whispered to him, running a hand over the thick, slimy hide of the beast until she found the tracker and discreetly slipped it into her left hand. "What are you?"

"You know I'm not going to tell you anything," he said, that same cocksure grin never wavering. "So why are you bothering to ask?" She shrugged at that and felt a bit faint so collapsed into his arms. He caught her gently, running an eye over her as she clung to his back, sticking the tracer onto his back as her other hand groped for something to latch onto, eventually settling into her back pocket to slide out the handset that he'd used to read the tracer. "You sure you're okay?"

"This is all just a bit much," Clara sighed, putting on her girliest voice as she stood up. "I mean, I'm meeting in the infamous Guardian Angel. How can I ever repay you for saving my life?" Clara was a good flirt when she needed to be and sure enough, as she stepped back from him, he was so encapsulated by her performance that he never doubted it for a second.

"You can pretend that we never met," he answered, turning his back on her and she allowed herself a smile. "Now, I'll be going." He shot the creature with some sort of blue ray and it vanished and then he strolled out of the alleyway. Clara followed him, because that was her route home, but he was already gone.

She didn't know what had possessed her to put the tracker on him. Or at least she pretended not to know. She'd pretended for years that she didn't care about him, wasn't the slightest bit interested. But she was. She, just like everyone else on the planet, wanted to know who he was, where he came from, why he did what he did, and more. She was curious. And now she had a way to find him. She pulled out the handset as she walked home and it beeped at her. She wasn't sure exactly the blips meant, but the tracer was telling her that he was somewhere over the Arctic, if the little map on her screen was to be believed, which was why it was an immense surprise to her when he was sitting in her living room when he got home.

"Okay, Clara Oswald," he said as she entered, flicked on the light and screamed at the sight of him. "I'm impressed. You have my attention."

"How do you know my name?" she asked, trying to sound defiant but her voice quivering. He was sat down on her sofa and still smiling, but his presence filled the room and it was impossible not to be intimidated, no matter how friendly his voice. "How did you know where I live?"

"A little birdy told me," he shrugged, tapping his nose knowingly. "I work on information. You're not exactly a difficult woman to learn things about; you don't try to hide anything from the government. One would be surprised how easy government servers are to access and when you know what you're looking for…" he trailed off. "You know, I was very impressed when you placed that tracer in my pocket and your performance was impeccable. You almost had me convinced with that little trick faint and the overawed flirting act. I like you Clara. You're intelligent, you have a cool head and you're not intimidated by me." She had to disagree with that. "Well not as much as you should be," he acknowledged. "You want answers?" She nodded. "Good well I want you."

"I'm…sorry!" Clara spluttered. "You want me?"

"As it happens, there's a spot open in my organisation. You want to know about me, all you have to do is pledge your undying loyalty to me." Something told her that he wasn't joking. "You probably have even more questions now. You want to know why you, I'd have assumed that was obvious. You tried to follow me, tried to track me down. Well here I am. Like I said, I'm impressed. And I have a sense of people, I can read them. I can read you Clara Oswald. And I like you. And I'm not the only one. My right hand man laughed out loud when I told him you'd put the tracer on me. He wants to meet you very much."

"Who's your right hand man?" she asked sheepishly.

"All in good time," he stuck out a hand. "I'm Jake Hunt."

"Clara Oswald," she replied, shaking his hand and feeling increasingly foolish.

"So," Jake Hunt stood and clasped a firm hand on her shoulder. "Shall we get started?"


	2. Chapter 2: Training

***Hey troops! Day two on the job and I'm already glad to be back into the swing of things. So, this chapter is very much an exposition of sorts, rattling through more background at a breakneck pace, whilst dropping plenty of hints of what is to come. I hope you like it and if you do, please please drop a review to let me know! Thanks again to the wonderful Chantelle (you can't escape the recognition) and to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited! See you all tomorrow! TPD***

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Chapter 2: Training

_The two men had never met before. And they would never meet again. They were messengers, nothing more. Each had an earpiece in their ear and strict instructions to say exactly what was said to them. No paraphrasing. Anything more or less and they would be terminated. Follow the instructions and they would make one million US dollars for a short conversation. The first man entered the car park from the South, the second from the North. They met on top of the abandoned, five storey car park, looking around to make sure that neither of them were followed if they wanted to live. _

_"__Is everything in place?" the first man asked quietly, pulling his collar up against the biting wind. The second didn't bother._

_"__Yes," he replied. "The boy has no idea that we are watching him. He believes that his little…protégé is a secret known only to him."_

_"__The fool," the voice speaking in the first man's ear sounded amused, so the first man conveyed that in his tone of voice. "Who is she?"_

_"Nobody important," the second man shrugged. "Her name is Clara Oswald. She has come at just the right time."_

_"How long until she finishes her training and is integrated?" the first man sounded impatient and the second voice was cool as velvet. _

_"__Just a couple of weeks now. She's moved at a remarkable rate. Even Hunt himself wasn't expecting such progress."_

_"__Excellent, then everything is going according to schedule. Nothing can stop me now. As long as you do your job correctly."_

_"Don't worry," the second man implored. "I will take care of Clara Oswald."_

_And with that, the earpieces activated and both of the men in the car park had their brain stems fried. _

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Clara knew that the kick was coming, but she couldn't move in time and it collided with her gut. She ducked the following punch and staggered back, guard up, able to buy herself a precious few seconds to recover. Her hair was up in a bun, she was dressed in a black tank top and shorts and her naked feet were blistered. She was covered from head to toe in sweat; it glistened off her toned muscles. She countered, slamming a fist into Jake's side but he didn't budge. He jabbed at her shoulder and whilst she was off-guard, the foot came whirling round and this time; the blow took her off of her feet. Clara hit the floor, her body screaming in agony. She managed to sit up and then she saw stars, as the next blow broke her jaw. She was so stunned she forgot rule one and lay there for a moment to catch her breath. It was less than a second before his foot came thundering into her gut and Clara let out a small noise of pain, nothing more than that.

"Dead," Jake informed her in a monotonous, unimpressed voice. That was a lesson that Clara had learned on her first day of training. Her first lesson. The fight wasn't over until he killed her. Or she killed him. But in nearly six months, she'd never been able to land more than a handful of blows in a fight until he snapped her neck or kicked the life out of her. He was brutal. She'd complained about it on her first day, when he'd punched her so hard her head had felt like it was going to come off and then when she lay there, waiting for him to help her up, he'd kicked her in the gut.

"That's…not…fair!" she had wheezed, practically crying. He had already given her a taster of the power he was going to give her at that stage, but she had still been smarting.

"The people I'm pitting you against," Jake had replied in a tender voice, but a firm one. "Won't fight fair. They won't care that you're short or a girl or human. They will rip you limb from limb in a heartbeat. So yes, I could fight fair. I could stop when you need to stop. And then, we finish training and you know all the moves and you can fight as well as anyone and you're dead in a week. I've seen it happen. So I'm going to fight like every other shit bag in the universe. And I won't stop until you're dead. If you need a moment to breathe, earn it."

And he taught her how. He taught her that confidence was everything. If you hop up and grin at them, and act like a blow that fractured your skull barely touched you, then they pause, they hesitate, they panic and you have a moment for your skull to heal and your body to get its second wind. She still lost every fight, but he told her that he'd been doing this for years and that she could fight every minute of every day for the rest of her life and still never be able to kill him. He wasn't training her to kill him; he was training her to kill everyone else.

Although the physical training was hard, away from the jousting arena, he was actually the sweetest person Clara had ever met. Ever since he had saved her life in the alleyway, everything had changed. He had taken her to a warehouse on the edge of Blackpool. He had told her that he had acquired the building so that he could train her whilst she lived at home. She didn't have to completely disappear. Not yet anyway.

His name was Jake Hunt. For years now, he and his team had been lurking in the shadows, protecting the world against anyone and anything that threatened its destruction. He possessed the Power. Clara had found this name to be wholly unsatisfying, but that was what it was called apparently. The Power was as old as time itself, moving through generations, protecting those who needed it most. And it had found its way to Jake, who utilised it to defend the innocent. He protested that this made him sound rather heroic, but he didn't consider himself a hero. He was a killer. A cold blooded killer. And ruthlessly efficient at it. He was stronger than any man alive, faster than any man alive and he had control over kinetic energy. The balls of light Clara had seen him summon were pure kinetic energy, and they could kill anyone who wasn't as strong as him, if they couldn't defend themselves.

He had been feeding Clara the Power, drip by drip, steadily increasing her body's capacity. The first few doses had been chaotic. She felt like her entire body was burning, her veins turned into pure fire. But it felt good. And as she learned to harness it, it grew cold, like ice at her fingertips.

She learned more and more. About the team she was joining, about its history, but he was always quiet when it came to the dead. He'd never talk about those he'd lost. She learned about her powers and how to control them, as the dosage was upped and upped until she felt like she would bring the entire building down on top of them if she wasn't too careful. Power transfer was done by holding hands. Very rudimentary, but it was effective. Early on, he pressed a needle to her head and drove it into her skull, which had hurt quite a bit.

"That," he informed her, as she rubbed the sore spot. "Was a chip that is implanted directly into your brain. If you betray me, I can activate it, and kill you instantly."

Clara felt her blood run cold. "Don't you trust me?" she asked quietly. He snorted at that.

"Fuck no," he replied. "And you shouldn't trust me. Or anyone. Trust is not something that you should ever share in our business Clara Oswald. Because if you trust people, it opens you up to get killed."

He was constantly working, so sometimes she'd go less than a day without seeing him, other times it could be up to two weeks. Sometimes, he'd be in perfect shape, others he'd be beaten black and blue, broken bones, blood and everything. He always managed to kick the shit out of her though, no matter how bad his injuries.

One day, he came into her flat, looking pale as anything. He had a split lip and he was hobbling slightly, but he seemed more shocked than anything. He sat down and she made him a cuppa and he just sat there, looking like his entire world had ended.

"What's wrong?" Clara had asked softly, as she handed him his cuppa. And he had looked at her, his eyes harsher than she had ever seen them.

"Nothing," he had replied instantly. "Grab your stuff, we're going fighting."

Often they sat in her flat and talked for a while before the fighting, often they talked afterwards and sometimes they didn't even fight at all, they just trained other ways, be it control, knowledge or history. But on that day, they fought all day and he fought savagely, breaking her in ways she hadn't even realised that it was possible to be broken. He didn't say a word to her all day, until the final time that he picked her up off the floor.

"I'm sorry," he apologised, as she tried to comprehend a new level of pain. "I just wanted to let you know Clara, you're…you're fighting hard." She looked at him disbelievingly. "I know you feel like you're getting nowhere, but trust me, you're progressing faster than I ever could have imagined."

And then he had left, leaving Clara more confused than ever. Shortly after, he had told her about his team. There was himself of course, the leader and general. Then, there was his right hand man. His right hand man was a techno whizz who could hack any computer, came up with the most insane technology and, according to Jake anyway, dressed like an idiot. His name was the Doctor. He wasn't human, he didn't come from Earth, but Jake didn't say much else about him. The Doctor was the techno guy and the coordinator, he tended to run missions from the side, but he could fight when needed.

Then, there was River Song. River was an espionage specialist; she would go undercover and was an expert in sabotage, infiltration and seduction. She was so useful to have for more subtle missions, in case Jake needed something done quietly, instead of with the usual fanfare.

Amelia Pond was the complete opposite. She was, in Jake's words, a berserker. He knew that he could trust Amy to cause as much destruction as possible in a short amount of time. She had only one level, she didn't show restraint, which made her invaluable at times.

Amy's husband Rory was the group nurse. He was as capable a soldier as the others, but when someone needed patching up after a particularly bad injury, it was Rory who sat them down, tied off their bleeding arteries, picked the bullets out of them, strapped them up and made sure that they rested.

"So who am I replacing?" Clara had asked casually. He hadn't answered her question directly.

"You're going to be an all-rounder," he informed her. "Like me. Trained in all forms of combat, stealth, leadership, tech. Consider me your idol, what you should aim to be." He seemed rather full of himself after that, but she had seen the look in his eyes. One of pain.

Clara felt like she knew them, even though she'd never met any of them. She asked why she hadn't them and he had told her that she wasn't ready. She wasn't sure what he meant by that, but as time went on, it became increasingly clear to her that she would be joining them soon. He kept dropping hints about her almost being ready and how she'd been the perfect student and how much the Doctor was looking forward to meeting her.

"Sorry," Clara groaned as he helped her up. "Forgot rule one."

"Forget it in a fight and you're dead meat," he reminded her, shaking his head slightly. "You're better than that Clara," he reprimanded. She rolled her eyes at this and he bit his lip. He was clearly thinking. "Listen," his voice was tender, so she knew what was coming, she had been expecting it for weeks. "You need to die."

The words crashed into her, one after the other, and Clara inhaled sharply. She had finally quit her teaching job a couple of weeks previously and she had been ignoring her father and friends, per his instructions. She had been showing all the signs of classic depression, putting on a wonderful show. But even so, going that one step further, disappearing into the shadows completely…she wasn't sure that she was ready for it. Her unease must have been etched all over her face, because he gave her a comforting look.

"The Doctor's arranged for Clara Oswald to completely disappear," he told her. "All you need to do is make sure that your friends, your dad, all think that you're dead. You'll become like me, like the rest of us. A ghost." She nodded. "I'm sorry Clara, but you knew that it would come to this."

"Doesn't make it any easier," she muttered darkly. "Was it hard for you?"

"Hardest thing I've ever done," he replied with a smile. He was lying and she knew it. But she let him lie. His lies were only to protect himself. She knew that he didn't trust her. Not fully. Not yet anyway. That was why he lied. About himself mostly. She knew almost nothing about this dark-haired stranger, only the job. Every single time that she tried to broach the subject of his personal life, he had either ignored her, or laughed in her face.

"There is no life beyond the job," he had said harshly. "You're in for life now Clara."

And she had known what she was getting into, what she was signing up for. It was going to be hard, almost impossible, but it would be worth it. She often thought about what had compelled her to follow him, that day that they met and she knew that it had been the curiosity, but it had also been yearning. For a better life. For a life where she could help people. More people. You never looked a gift horse in the mouth and Clara Oswald had been given a chance to help more people than she could possibly have imagined. And if the price was her own life, in every sense, then so be it. It was a price she was willing to pay.

He'd given her a week to get it done, but the next day, he came back. And he looked different and she could sense that he was different. He was haggard and limping badly, worse than she'd ever seen him. He almost fell into her flat and she supported him over to the chairs.

"Change of plans," he groaned, stretching out but wincing as he did so. "Do you have a human sized ice pack?" Clara raised an eyebrow at him incredulously. "Worth a shot. I'm sending you on a mission." Her eyes widened. "Now."

"What?" she spluttered. "But what happened to me coming to your base, slowly integrating, only going on missions after a week or so when I'd settled?"

"Fuck that," Jake groaned. "I'm sending you on a solo mission. Tonight. I have no choice Clara, I'm sorry, but I know you're ready for it." She stood frozen to the spot, staring at him. "We've been chasing this bastard for weeks. Walter Simeon. Otherwise known as the Great Intelligence. He picks up information, uses it to get what he wants, bring down governments, building an empire that stretches across fifteen planets. He knew that we were on to him, so he sent in an army to kill us all. We wiped every last one of them out," Jake grimaced. "But we took a heavy beating. I'm in the best shape out of us and I'm not in a good way. We have Simeon's location, all we need is someone strong enough to fight."

"Me?" Clara spluttered. "But…but…"

"Clara," Jake groaned. "I need you to do this. You are strong enough, once I give you your final power boost. You just need to break into the compound and either capture or kill Simeon. There'll be armed guards but you know how to deal with them. Remember, try to stun them, not kill them."

"I'm not…"

"Clara." He stared into her eyes. "You are ready."

And she believed him.


	3. Chapter 3: The Great Intelligence

***Hey guys! So this chapter is quite action based and there are going to be a few of them in this story, as Clara hunts down the Great Intelligence. Anyway, I really hope you like it :D As ever, massive thanks to the wonderful Chantelle, and to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited. Please keep reviewing, reviews are a writer's bread and butter! See you tomorrow! TPD***

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Clara was three miles from the complex. Jake had long since taught her how to use the TARDIS system. It was short for Teleportation And Relocation Displacement Integration System and it could take her almost anywhere within range in the blink of an eye. Clara blinked several times as she came to grips with the awkward landing and then she crept low into the bushes. Simeon had plenty of armed guards. The compound was pretty heavily locked down and back up against a cliff, with only one way in; a gate. Jake had sent her the schematics; there was no other way in, short of explosives. There were two snipers on the roof, one on each of the giant pillars of rock that adjoined the gate and another twenty men inside the courtyard on the other side of it. The two red lasers of the snipers moved fast and hard, unpredictably switching and scanning the earth just ahead of Clara.

Clara moved quickly through the bushes. Avoiding the lasers was extremely difficult, as they followed no discernible pattern and she constantly found herself hitting the deck, face buried in the dirt, making herself look as invisible as possible. She was like a ghost, and by the time that she found herself reaching the complex exterior, her heart had stopped beating like a jackhammer and her breathing had slowed to the point where it was almost negligible. She felt in complete control. She closed her eyes, took a moment. She imagined that it was just another training exercise. She'd done enough of them. She knew what it would feel like to die. The only difference was, if she screwed this up, the feeling of death would be a little more permanent.

Clara only allowed herself that one moment to compose herself. She didn't need more, and every second that she stood at the feet of the wall was a second she could have been spending chasing down Walter Simeon. She let her body become nothing more a fluid sense of energy, that she had complete control over. All the energy in her body was hers to control, icy but burning. She was so used to the feel of power, what it did to her veins, that she no longer reacted to it, but she subconsciously felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

She shunted the energy, bringing it to her hands, so that they felt like they could cause an earthquake, were she to send them crashing into the ground. Instead, she drove her hand through the wall, giving her a hand hold. She reached up with her other hand, sending a thin trail of dust and rubble falling to the ground as she sent her fingers into the rock. She didn't even feel it, it just felt like the handholds were already there, not like she was scything her way through the wall to create them. She reached up again, propelling herself off of the ground, sliding her foot into the hole she had just created, as her hand once again penetrated the wall of unmoving carbon. She had no idea why Simeon had chosen to build his fortress out of rock, rather than metal, but she suspected that Jake knew why. Probably something that the infamous Doctor had cooked up.

Climbing the great pillar of rock was easy and quick. Every movement was smooth, her muscles barely straining as Clara climbed, her hands moving through the stone like it was sand. She made no sound, nor did she give the guard above her any indication that she was there as she waited until he was facing the other way to elevate herself onto the top of the pillar. So it was most probably a huge shock to him when she punched him in the back of the neck, right where Jake had taught her, with just the right amount of force and he would barely have had a moment to register that shock before he was unconscious. Too easy.

Clara caught the gun before it hit the floor. The other sniper wouldn't look over this way very often, but he damn well would if he saw the other red laser light scanning the perimeter disappear. Clara glanced across at her next target. The gap between the pillars was a good 10m. She could shoot him with the gun in her hand and then use said gun to pick off the twenty men in the courtyard below her. But she didn't. For two reasons. Firstly, it would attract too much attention and she didn't want to announce her arrival to Walter Simeon just yet. But mainly because she wasn't sure that she was ready to take another human life. She wasn't sure if she would ever be ready. Clara was in this to help people, because she cared about people like her dad, who lived their lives oblivious to this sort of stuff. And she wasn't about to take lives to secure that. Not unless there was no other way.

Clara lowered the gun to the ground the second that the other guard turned his back on her. She ran, her legs pumping like pistons as the fluid power in her body raced down to her legs and then she sprang, flying through the night, her muscles straining as she propelled herself.

She could have made it the entire way, but decided not to, pulling back, just a touch and catching the ledge instead. Somewhere, across the horizon, she heard the rustling of a bird in a bush. It was the only noise to break the utter silence of the night. Not even her breathing made a decibel. She heard the muffled footsteps of the guard. She didn't need to look up, she could sense how close he was to her. She could smell the perspiration running down his forehead, under the thick, black mask he wore. Not a single part of his body was visible under the body armour, not one weak spot. Which made it all the more satisfying.

Clara pushed up, sweeping his legs out from under him with her own, reaching out to catch his face with her hand so she could cover his mouth, stop him crying out as his balance left him. Clara landed on the pillar and crouched in the same movement, taking the guard with her. As the back of his helmet collided with the stone, with a sickening crunch audible only to her, Clara was already thinking three steps ahead. The snipers were down. Now for the men in the courtyard.

She didn't have much time. It wouldn't be long before somebody noticed that both of the snipers were incapacitated and alerted The Great Intelligence that he was compromised. She tapped her watch impatiently, utilising the software imbedded within it to scan the area, find out what the security pattern was. The last present that Jake had given her before she had headed off.

"This watch is everything," he had told her. "It's your coms unit, it's your access to the TARDIS, it's a scanner, it allows you to access our computer network, it's everything. Guard it with your life."

Three cameras sweeping the courtyard. Between the three, they had every single one of the men covered at every single instant. They had the entire area covered, there was no way she could take down the men without being spotted, either by taking down the cameras, which would alert Simeon, or letting the cameras see her.

At least, that was what The Great Intelligence thought. She hacked the camera feeds, using the watch as a relay mechanism, dismantling the security firewalls in moments, giving her complete control over the cameras. And then she set them onto a loop, to repeat the footage of the previous hour. Whoever was watching the cameras from the inside would see the guards continue about their normal routines, as if nothing in the world was wrong.

Clara knew that that didn't make her job easy though. All of the guards had semi-automatic machine guns, with what Jake had termed: power piercing bullets. Basically, if they hit her, they would break the skin. And it would hurt like hell. They still wouldn't do as much damage as normal bullets would do to a normal human and it would take an entire clip to bring her down, but it would be mightily unpleasant and Rory would have to spend his recuperation time picking bullets out of Clara. What a great first meeting that would be.

And worse, if any of the guards got the chance, they could radio Simeon, making the stealth part of her plan entirely irrelevant. Jake was certain that Simeon would have an escape plan of some sort and Clara had no intention of giving him a chance to run. She took a minute to memorise and determine the guards' movements, working out a path through them that would give no guard more than two seconds to go for either his gun or his radio. She reckoned that they'd all choose the gun. People were extraordinarily self-preserving and she doubted that any of them loved their boss enough to warn him of her presence when there was a chance of her snapping his neck. She wouldn't, of course. But they didn't know that. Confidence was everything. If they thought she was a malicious killer, they would react accordingly. If they thought that she was a scared little girl, then they would react accordingly. And Clara could use both to her advantage.

She dropped down silently from the wall, into the shadows. The first guard would be in her range in three, two, one…and down. The second hadn't spotted her bludgeoning his friend, which was an unexpected bonus. So he didn't even get a chance to fumble for his gun before he was out like a light.

Things were going like clockwork as she moved softly, speedily and brutally efficiently. She never used more than one strike to take down an opponent, meaning that they were slightly harder strikes than she would have liked, increasingly the negligible chance of a fractured skull ever so slightly. A handful of them spotted her before she drove her fists, palms, elbows and feet into them, but most were blissfully unaware of the extremely painful blow they were about to receive and the horrific concussion that would await them when they woke. She hadn't been keeping track of the number; she'd been following her pattern instead. It was a small mistake, but it almost proved fatal.

Clara swivelled as the last man fell to the floor, doing a quick mental count in her head and matching it onto the pile of bodies sprawled across the floor of the courtyard. Nineteen. She froze as she heard the gun cocking and turned slowly, raising her hands in the air. The man had his finger on the trigger and was about to squeeze, so Clara did the only thing that she could do to stall for time. She started crying. Let them think that you're a weak little girl and they'll react accordingly.

He hesitated. Just for a moment, an instant even. He didn't lower his gun or his guard, nor did he take his finger off the trigger. But the second that the women in front of him started bawling her eyes out, he hesitated. And that moment of hesitation was all that was required for Clara to step in and dislodge his front teeth with her elbow.

Twenty. She breathed a sigh of relief, gave the courtyard one final sweep and strolled over to the front door of the compound. She allowed herself a little smile. The hardest part was behind her, surely? Simeon hadn't expected anyone to get this far. He had no internal security cameras. There were two guards directly inside, she knew that much. The schematics told her that inside, there was a long corridor, with rooms on all sides. Simeon's throne room was right at the end, where he ate, lived, slept and dictated play from. One long, straight corridor stood between her and her target. Not even Jake knew how many guards he would have inside that room, however, it was lined with something that prevented their scanners getting inside.

She felt the power move to her fingers again. She'd been working stealthily, in the dark, so any fireworks would have lit her up like a Christmas tree. Now, though, she could use those energy shots to her advantage. She pressed a hand to the door and the lock imploded. If the guards inside heard, she'd never find out, because she sprang, kicking open the doors and, in the same moment, she unleashed a stream of energy from each hand, colliding with the men's chests, launching them off their feet and to the ground.

Clara stepped inside the compound. It was pale white, not the warm, loving white of a kitchen or a bedroom, but the sickly white of a hospital. She wrinkled her nose at the smell, that same, almost cleansing feeling, like she had entered some kind of grotesque laboratory. The doors that she passed as she walked down the corridor were all wooden but they were no more welcoming, painted that same, clinical shade of white and they didn't smell of wood, the way that wood should smell, but of a stale, almost antiseptic scent. The tension in the tangy, metallic tasting air grew as Clara walked down the corridor, her footsteps echoing lightly, the only noise she could hear except one. Laughter.

The laughter was horrific, like the haunting lullaby of the clown that had haunted Clara's dreams when she was a little girl. The further she walked down, the louder it got, a vicious sound, like the person who was laughing needed the person that he was laughing at to know precisely how much he was enjoying their pain. This was her first taste of Walter Simeon and she already couldn't wait to see the look on his face when she hit him, see the lights leave his eyes as he lost consciousness.

Clara kept moving, the laughter filling her ears, to the point where she was almost running, desperate for the sound to end, as it sent shockwaves through her skull. She let herself shudder, but that was the only concession that she made. She reached the grand set of double doors at the end of the corridor, jet black, giving the room beyond them a sense of difference and importance but no more warm and no less sterile. Clara opened the door.

The sight beyond the doors was not a pleasant one. There were four men stood in a line facing her, the skin peeled over their faces. They had no eyes or nose, the skin pulled taut over them. They did however, have mouths, with sharp, pointed teeth and the noises leaving their mouths, which Clara had previously been unable to detect over the laughter, were low, hissing, and guttural, barely above a whisper. They were all wearing the exact same jet block coat, buttoned up to the top of their white collars. And they were all wearing black top hats.

Behind these…men, these whispering men, on an elevated platform was Walter Simeon himself, wearing identical clothing to the four henchmen, but with a face, a hallowed, sunken face with eyes so cold, Clara wondered how she could stare into them without turning to ice. He had something in his hand, a remote of some kind and Clara realised, in horror, that it was to something strapped around the neck of a man in front of Simeon, who was clutching at his throat in silent agony.

"Who the devil are you?" Simeon snapped as he saw Clara enter. He looked both surprised and extremely angry. "And how did you get past the guards?"

"A friend of Jake Hunt," Clara replied deliberately and coolly, refusing to let her own, boiling anger bubble over to the surface, the way that Simeon did. "Let that man go."

"He displeased me," Simeon said, not a trace of emotion in his voice. He dropped the remote and Clara frowned. "But I disliked the sound of his screaming, so I removed his voice box. He is in unendurable agony, he will die in moments anyway; I've had my fun with him. He sounded utterly disgusted as he sneered, "A girl. He sent a girl after me. How insulting. Why he sounds himself with your inferior species, I will never understand."

Clara hadn't thought that it was possible to feel greater hatred for Walter Simeon, but he was trying very hard to prove her wrong. Simeon waved his hand dismissively and turned away from Clara, disinterested. The Whispermen, as Clara referred to them in her head, took a step forwards, raising their hands out in front of them. Clara realised, with a feeling in her gut tingling, warning her, that they didn't carry guns. That meant one of two things. They didn't like killing, or they didn't need them. Somehow, Clara didn't suspect that it was the former.

She let out off a volley of blows, which would have knocked out most men. The Whispermen moved forwards at an alarming rate, either absorbing or ducking Clara's shots. She focused her attack on the closest one, letting loose with a stream of pure energy from her hand. It halted as the stream struck in the chest, it took one final, staggering step forwards, and then it turned to dust. It didn't register that she had taken her first life, mainly because she didn't stop to consider that that monstrosity was even alive.

Clara didn't have time to celebrate her little victory. Stopping one of those things, for they weren't men, there was no doubting that, had taken more out of her than she had expected, she felt winded. Worse, the other three had gained a lot of ground in the time she had been dispatching it. She found herself backing up, although she had no space to really back into. She unleashed another stream, determined to keep up the pace. This was a mistake, she realised instantly, as by the time that the second Whisperman had even halted, the other two were almost close enough to touch her. She released the stream, freeing the Whisperman and she lashed out, a furious maelstrom of energy balls erupting from her hands, striking one Whisperman, then the other, barely even slowing them. Clara could feel herself growing weaker with every strike that she unleashed, but she remembered. Confidence is everything. They could be one blow away from destruction, for all she knew. And if she put her mask on, they might think that there was no stopping her.

The second one was close again, almost on a par with his partners. She didn't register him until it was too late and his hand was inside her chest. She felt her body's energy go out of her control, acting on instinct, shifting towards the centre of her body, acting to protect against the invading force. But whilst her power was moving to avert danger, so was her fist, which collided with the Whisperman. Whatever it was, she realised smugly, it still had a jaw, which she came to know when it broke and the Whisperman staggered back. The instant its hand left her, she flooded the energy back into her hand and this time, it was obliterated as she blasted it. This left an opening, a small gap, which Clara darted through before the other two Whispermen could compensate for the loss of their cohort.

Within the split second that it took them to turn, Clara was on her, using the last of her energy reserves to batter them relentlessly, landing blow after blow. She was moving backwards, the entire room behind her now as she unleashed hellfire upon them. She could feel the stage coming and adjusted, jumping, never letting up the barrage for a moment. The Whispermen kept coming. Until they didn't. Clara stumbled back, exhausted by the effort. She found herself feeling slightly dizzy and nauseous, and she realised that her body was struggling to compensate for losing so much energy in such a short space of time. Stopping one of those things had left her tired. Stopping four had pushed her almost to her limits.

She turned, looking for Simeon. He was nowhere to be seen, but there was a small door leading to somewhere adjoining the main throne room, and she gathered that that was where he had scurried off to. She took a moment to unclasp the collar from the now dead as promised man that Simeon had been torturing and shut his eyes. She hated Simeon for killing him and she hated herself for not getting there in time to save him.

Clara smashed the door to the alcove off its hinges, finally letting her anger show in one single burst of defiance before the cool, easy-going but lethal mask rose back up. Simeon was startled, he clearly hadn't expected her to get past the Whispermen.

"You made me kill them," Clara accused, her fury evident in her every word.

"My dear," Simeon replied, almost mockingly. "They were never alive. They were merely extensions of my consciousness, implanted onto controllable flesh bodies. You didn't kill anyone. And nor shall you." He struck, sweeping the pistol out from under his jacket and firing once, directly at Clara's heart. If he was expecting her to die, he was sadly disappointed, as she moved even faster than she had imagined she could move, sidestepping the bullet with an almost terrifying ease.

"Is that all you've got?" Clara asked, no almost in her mocking tone. She gave him a smile. And then she hit him.


	4. Chapter 4: Welcome to the Team

***Hello Stonehenge! Chapter 4, and it's time to introduce the dashing Gallifreyan known as: The Doctor! Let the Whouffle commence! I super hope that you guys like this chapter and as ever, thank you so much to Chantelle for all of her help and all of you wonderful peeps who read, review, follow and favourite! Pretty please with a cherry on top review! TPD***

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The TARDIS dropped Clara, lugging the unconscious body of Walter Simeon behind her, onto a pad in a small entrance corridor, not very big and white, though the warmer sort of white, not the clinical shade that she had left behind at Simeon's compound. She stepped out of the corridor, dragging Simeon along behind her, gripping him firmly by the collar in her right hand.

Once she was out of the corridor, she was into a very large, very well lit room. An entire wall was dedicated to computers. There were seemingly hundreds of the things, blipping and beeping, with all manner of interfaces. It was like a computer nerd's dream. There were plenty of chairs and sofas in the room, along with a pool table, which struck her as odd for a strategic base to have in its main meeting room. There were several tables, each set up so that an interface could pop out of the bottom. There was even a bar in one corner. It was also tall, so when Clara looked up, she could only just pick out the ceiling, high above her.

They were underground, she knew that much. Very far underground, judging by the height of the ceiling. The main entrance was by the TARDIS, but there were a plethora, according to Jake, of secret tunnels that surrounded the base. There were two other corridors, apart from the one that Clara had just stepped out of, adjoining the room, one to either side of Clara and the computer wall was directly opposite her.

A man was sat in a chair facing the computers and she heard his frantic typing stop when she entered. He swivelled his chair around and stood. This was the man that she had referred to as the big-chinned man. The one with the eccentric dress sense. He was almost a foot taller than her, with the most floppy hair that she had ever seen on a human being and sure enough, he was wearing the purple tweed jacket and matching bow tie. And a waistcoat. He stalked over to her, his gangly limbs looking particularly odd as he walked, a peculiar look on his face as he stopped about an inch from her and looked her up and down, craning his head in every direction to fully examine her, almost as if he was dissecting her.

"You're much shorter than I anticipated from your file," he concluded.

Clara was taken-aback by this, so she said the first thing that came into her head. "Well your chin is much bigger in person than it was on TV!" she riposted, raising an eyebrow, a faint smile playing on her lips as she stared him down. He gave her the biggest, warmest, most welcoming grin that she had ever seen and then pulled her into a hug that probably would have been a lot less painful had she not been utterly shattered.

"Clara Oswald?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye as he broke the hug.

"And you must be the Doctor," Clara found herself unable to stop smiling in response to this thoroughly incredible man. She glanced back at Simeon. "I brought you a present."

"Walter Simeon!" the Doctor shot him a look. "We've had a holding cell with his name on it for a few weeks now. I take it that it went off without a hitch?"

Clara shrugged coyly. "There was a complication. Nothing that I couldn't handle."

"Ah," the Doctor nodded, gesturing for Clara to follow him down the corridor to her right, his left. "The Whispermen. Unpleasant creatures. We knew Simeon was trying to splice himself, create soldiers utterly loyal to him and nigh on unstoppable. We didn't realise that he'd achieved it. How did you defeat them?" he asked eagerly, and the look on his face told her that this was what he lived for.

"By hitting them very hard repeatedly," Clara replied.

"Well that's one way," the Doctor chuckled. "Sorry, I should be giving you a tour of sorts. This is your first time in the base. This corridor leads to all the work stuffs. So training areas, holding cells, medical bay, armoury, garage etc. The holding cells are just down here," he indicated to another corridor off-shooting the one that they were in and Clara followed him down it, making no effort to stop Simeon's body from hitting the wall as she turned the corner. "And the other corridor that goes off from the main base room is living quarters. Bedrooms, kitchens, swimming pool, bowling alley, cinema etc. There's also some more bits and bobs, I'll give you a proper tour later. Do you need any medical attention?"

"Honestly," Clara let the hardness drop from her voice. If she was going to be working with the Doctor, living with the Doctor, almost certainly ending up being friends with the Doctor, then it made no sense to pretend to be something that she wasn't. "I just want a long hot bath and to sleep until I'm dead. I'm absolutely knackered."

He gave her a sympathetic look. "I've been there," he murmured. "First mission and it was solo, you've earned a bit of rest. I'll take you to your room once we've disposed of Simeon. Jake said you made a list of stuff that you wanted to keep from your apartment and he brought everything that you listed. Apparently you two sorted it out before you left to take on Simeon?"

Clara nodded. She and Jake had spent the day running over plans for taking on Simeon, but also preparing for Clara's disappearance. He'd helped her pack anything that she wanted to keep, clothes, photos, teddies, even a poster for a crappy band that she liked and bundled it all into boxes. If she was going to leave her old life behind her, at least she didn't have to forget it.

"Is that it then?" she asked, sounding more vulnerable than she meant to. "Am I dead?"

The Doctor stopped in his tracks and she almost walked into the back of him. He swivelled and gave her a sad smile. "See for yourself," he said and tapped his watch a couple of times, bringing up a newspaper entry about an apartment block fire. "Your entire block burned down. Frankly it's a miracle that only you were in that day. Apparently, everyone else won the lottery." She smiled at that. "How does it feel to be a ghost Clara Oswald?"

Clara bit her lip and shrugged slightly. "We're all just ghosts in the end," she told him, stepping into the room that they had stopped outside, making sure to bang Simeon's head against the wall as she threw him into his cell. The room he would spend the rest of his miserable, uncomfortable life in. " Everybody dies in the end Doctor. I'm just glad that I can make my death worth something."

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As promised, the Doctor showed Clara her room and left her to relax. It was spacious, bigger than she had been expecting, with a four-poster bed, her own ruby red sheets emblazoning the top of it. Her clothes had been put away properly, as if someone had taken the time and effort to make her feel at home the second that she had arrived. The attached en-suite bathroom was filled with her things as well, little slices of home comfort that Clara had wanted to keep hold of. The shampoo her mum had always used, her favourite lipstick, the little things. The room already smelled like home. It was as if someone had bottled the scent of her apartment and sprayed it in her new room. Her crappy band poster had even been pinned up for her. Clara had a bath, as long, hot and bubbly as she could make it and washed the grime and blood from her hair and skin. She felt like herself. Which she knew was important to Jake. He told her that the most important thing was not to lose yourself to the job. It became your life, but it didn't have to become you. And clearly, Jake or someone else had gone to great pains to make Clara feel like she was still Clara.

She sat on the edge of her bed, her hair wrapped in a towel, a pink fluffy dressing gown over her shoulders. She was stroking a picture of her mother, one of the last that she had. There was a knock at the door and she felt the sudden urge to hide the photo, as if she wanted to protect the memory. Instead, she placed the photo back on her bedside table and crossed the room to open the door. The Doctor was stood there, twiddling his thumbs and he tried not to look uncomfortable as she gave him a nod.

"Ah!" he greeted. "Clara."

"Doctor," she acknowledged in an amused tone, the smile creeping back onto her face as she raised an eyebrow at him. "How can I help you?"

"I was just uh," he fumbled slightly over his words. "Jake sent me!" he realised eventually, as if he had been looking for the reason that he had come to her door. "Yes, he's holding a group meeting. Wants to introduce you to the team. And to debrief you on the Simeon mission. Christ," he shook his head and chuckled. "I make it sound so formal. We're just going to grab a drink and chat!" he tried, shaking his head at that too. "I just mean…"

"It's okay," Clara giggled, despite herself. "I'll be in the main room in five. And don't worry about hovering outside my room while I change, I can find my way."

"Right!" the Doctor nodded. "Yes. Indeed. Onwards. I'll uh, see you in a moment then."

"Goodbye Doctor," Clara shook her head as she shut the door on him, still laughing slightly at the incredibly odd individual that she had just met. He was nothing like she had been expecting. Jake had warned her that the Doctor was eccentric, but she had been expecting mad scientist and he was more like an excited child or a puppy. Jake himself was very terse, kind but not the kind of person who you wanted to cross. He had never been anything other than lovely to her, except when they were fighting. Then he had kicked the shit out of her and been merciless. She wondered what the others would be like.

Clara dressed quickly, pulling on her favourite spotted red dress that fell about her knees. She dabbed a bit of makeup on and swept her hair from its towel, letting it fall in waves to her shoulders. She examined herself in the mirror. She didn't know why she was making the effort, after all, these people were going to see her in all manner of compromising situations, but then, she wasn't doing it for them. She was doing it for her. Every little detail of Clara's life had changed. But she still had her favourite red dress. And damn it all, she wanted to wear it.

Clara stepped out of her room and the walk down the corridor felt like the entrance to an arena. She could hear the crowds cheering inside her head, but really, there was just a smattering of cheerful conversation, drifting down the walls. Someone was laughing, a girl, with a very jovial laugh. It made Clara feel at ease instantly but only momentarily and when she stepped into the main room, the small group sat on the plush sofas turned to look at her.

The Doctor was smiling, his face warm and welcoming. She could have almost expected that, as the Doctor struck her as a very warm and welcoming person, if a little awkward. As if on cue, he almost tumbled backwards off of it, grabbing the tall, ginger girl next to him for support. Jake was giving her a smirk, a look of what Clara could only discern as pride as he slouched back, arms crossed and he nodded to her as their eyes met. The red headed girl next to the Doctor was eyeing Clara with a wary look, but it was only there for a second before her echoing laugh returned at the Doctor's antics. She must have been Amy; for her hand was clasped around the hand of the mousy-haired man sat on her other side. He looked awkward, but not awkward like the Doctor. The Doctor's awkwardness was a bumbling, carefree sort, like his brain and his body didn't quite fit together, whereas the mousy-haired man, who Clara diagnosed as Rory, looked like he was perpetually uncomfortable and even when his lips twirled upwards in Clara's direction, it felt resigned, rather than genuine. The woman sat on the chair between the two sofas folded her arms when she saw Clara, arching an eyebrow and eyeing Clara up in a fashion that Clara could almost call patronising. She had wild hair and military-like clothing and she shot Jake a look when she had finished weighing up Clara, as if to say: 'I approve.' She was River Song.

"Clara!" Jake greeted, patting the sofa spot beside him as the Doctor managed to rescue his position opposite where Jake was rapping his hand. "Join us! Fancy a drink?"

"No thanks," Clara replied, her voice quieter than she'd been expecting it to be as she flopped down beside Jake and crossed her legs, placing her hands in her lap. She was very much used to having all the eyes in the room on her, so she didn't flinch at that. Instead, she took the opportunity to do to them what they were all doing to her. Dissect them, read them, learn them. Rory was the only one not looking at her, yet another sign of his uncomfortability. Amy was desperately trying to assess whether she liked Clara or not and Clara suspected that their entire friendship, or lack of, would depend on what Amy decided in those next few moments. The Doctor was practically drinking her in. He probably didn't even realise what he was doing, unlike the others and was merely looking at Clara with an eagerness that she hadn't been expecting. Jake had hinted that the Doctor was excited by the prospect of Clara, but he'd never said why. And as for River, well she was looking at Clara in amusement and defiance, almost daring Clara to try and read her back.

"So you took down Simeon?"

It was Amy who had spoken, trying and failing to keep the suspicion out of her voice, which earned her an exasperated and almost pissed off look from Jake, and one of confusion from the Doctor. Clara nodded, then straightened slightly, and allowed herself a smile.

"He's in your holding cells right?" she asked, in a manner that made it perfectly clear that Clara knew exactly where Simeon was.

"Nope," Jake said nonchalantly and Clara whipped round so fast she almost decapitated him with her hair. "I executed him," Jake shrugged and Clara frowned instantly.

"You told me to bring him in!" she accused.

"Yes," Jake agreed. "I did. Alive or dead. And you brought him in alive. Now he's dead. Problem?"

"I don't like it," Clara snapped. "I didn't sign up for a regime where you execute people instead of giving them justice."

"Yes," Jake said, his cool demeanour rapidly disappearing and Clara had forgotten that the rest of the group existed in that moment. "You did. I made it clear to you from the off that there would be death involved. That we operated within a moral grey area. You're not a killer Clara and that's fine, that's your way of doing things. But Simeon was too dangerous to be left alive and once I'd extracted all the information of value that he was holding, I put him down."

"Surely he deserves to suffer in a cell for the rest of his miserable life, rather than the quick release of death that you gave him?" Clara protested and Jake was smiling now.

"So this isn't about justice, but vengeance?" he challenged and Clara paled. "Believe me Clara, the remainder of Walter Simeon's paltry existence was far from pleasant. He suffered plenty. But if this base is compromised or Simeon finds a way to escape, then he could wreak untold havoc on this galaxy. You knew the conditions coming in. I'm not going to make you do anything, but you know where the door is. I can have the Doctor set up a cushy new identity for you in minutes."

Clara heard the Doctor protesting but she was only focusing on Jake, their eyes locked, hers blazing, his ice cold and almost threatening her to walk out, confident that she wouldn't. He was right of course, but Clara didn't want to appear weak, so she didn't break the contact, she merely gave him a fake smile and ran a hand through her hair. He broke the contact for her and as she turned, she found herself staring into the eyes of the Doctor, who looked more uncomfortable than she could have imagined. River's smirk hadn't wavered. Amy's had. Rory was still looking at the wall.

"The data that I received off of Simeon," Jake continued as if nothing was amiss, his voice cool and breaking through the tension in the air. "Helped us determine that there are rumours, whispers of a political assassination in the air. Harriet Jones, you know of her?"

Clara snapped back into Jake's words, all thoughts of the darkest nether regions of morality abandoned when she heard the name. The British Prime Minister. She knew that she wasn't the only one, as everyone had stopped looking at her and were focused on Jake. The mission came first.

"Well, it turns out, the delightful Miss Jones," Jake's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Is the target of a bounty. There are twelve million dollars on her head. But, for the bounty to be collected, then the assassination has to take place on Halloween, during her big speech outside the House of Commons."

"Halloween's only eight days away," Clara murmured, as if counting the days in her head. "What's the plan?"

"I've made a list," Jake explained, activating the hologram on the table and pulling up said list. "Of the top fifteen international assassins. Assuming that they stay Earth based. Three of them are currently out of action, and if I send off a warning that we're involved, I have deals with another three, and I know two of them will shit themselves and not turn up."

"So what do we do about the other seven?" River asked, the curl of her lips and the inflection of her voice making it clear what she had planned for them. Clara could see her hand move two inches to the left, almost on instinct, presumably reaching for her gun.

"We terminate them," Jake said with a smile, before shooting Clara a look. "If that's alright with Clara here?"

The look she shot him was pure poison. "You can terminate whoever the hell you want," Clara informed him, seeing River's smile grow out of the corner of her eye. "If you assign me any targets, they'll end up in your holding cells. And next time I put someone in there, I'll have the Doctor change the codes so that you can't get in there."

If the Doctor disagreed with this, he didn't say anything and Jake shot his friend a look that said: 'If you even dare!' Clara heard a laugh and to her surprise (and it seemed, almost everyone else's) it was Rory who had laughed. Jake glared at Rory, who simply shrugged. Jake threw his hands up in the air in defeat and Clara allowed herself a little giggle of triumph. She could practically hear the Doctor's sigh of relief. When Jake turned back to look at Clara, he had a reluctant and begrudging grin plastered on his stupid face.

"Fine," he laughed. "Fine. I'm the one who trained you, I should have known that you'd fight me over every little thing. You do your missions your way Clara Oswald, God knows it's refreshing to have someone with a scrap of morality around here for a change." The Doctor cleared his throat but Jake ignored him. "I have two targets for you Clara, I want them in the holding cells by the end of the week. River, likewise. Amy, Doctor, I have the perfect targets for you two and Rory, this one's yours." He was swiping furiously, sending names of targets flinging around the table as everyone sat up to stare at the names in front of them. When Clara looked up, Jake was smiling at her warmly again. "Welcome to the team."


	5. Chapter 5: Flirtation and Experiments

***Heyyy! Four days almost to the minute until freedom. I can practically taste it. So for those of you who came here for the Whouffle (which is most of you), here! Have some Whouffle on me. No really, take it! All rightie then! As ever, huge thanks to the delightful Chantelle, who you all need to go and read. And huge thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited! Please continue to do so, it means a lot! I hope you enjoy the chapter! TPD***

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Clara woke to the sound of knocking. But not normal knocking, where the person stopped after at most a handful of knocks. Oh no, this was a continuous knocking, like Satan himself was camped outside Clara's door, thundering his fist against the wood, time and time and time again, desperate for permission to enter. She groaned, flopping out of bed, staggering over to the door, blinking sleep from her eyes and running a hand through her messy hair. The horrific noise on the other side of her door was not showing any signs of desisting and when she finally threw open the door, glaring and grunting at the Doctor, who was stood on the threshold, his face lit up. He was dressed in beige tweed today, and covered in dust and ash, a small piece of his trademark quiff still smouldering, his eyebrows markedly singed.

"Ah Clara!" he greeted. "Good, you're up! I was worried that you might still be asleep!"

She wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or not, but judging by the look on his pretty little face, she didn't think he was. Clara didn't answer, she just stood there, scowling at him like her life depended on it, crossing her arms as if to make the point more obvious. He didn't seem to pick up on it.

"So," the Doctor rubbed his hands together excitedly. "I was wondering if you didn't have anything planned for this morning, if you wouldn't mind helping me with a few experiments of mine?" he sounded hopeful, so Clara's scowl softened on instinct. "Jake asked me to test out some stuff and I kinda need a test subject."

Clara beamed at that. She couldn't help herself. The Doctor had been nothing but sweet to her since she'd showed up the previous day and any opportunity to integrate herself further into the group already was one she would snatch at with both hands. She agreed quickly and he seemed to perk up at that, as if it was even possible for him to perk up. Clara could hear him whistling to himself as she shut the door, the smile on her face one that she hadn't even realised was there remaining as she showered and dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt. She would have dressed nicer than that, but she had no idea what the Doctor's 'experiments' would entail and didn't want to ruin a nice dress.

Clara headed out of her room, strolling down the corridor, into the main base room, where River was tapping away at the computers. She glanced up when she heard Clara enter and gave the younger woman a nod and a smile.

"Hello sweetie!" she greeted, causing Clara to flush slightly, her cheeks tinged with red. "How're you settling in?" River asked cheerfully, her voice as seductive and sultry as her appearance. Clara could see why Jake had called her an expert in the field.

"Yeah," Clara nodded appreciatively. "Not bad thanks. The Doctor invited me to partake in some experiments with him, is there any chance that you can show me to his lab?"

River's smile widened and she waved a hand in the direction of the corridor that Clara knew it would be down. Still, with half the base to search, it could have taken her a while without a guide. She fell in step beside River, who was a good half a foot taller than Clara and couldn't help but look down at her slightly, the same, permanently amused smirk never leaving her face for an instant.

"Have you had a look at how you're going to deal with your assassins?"

Clara flitted a look at River, curious as to the intent of the question. River looked interested, as if she wanted to know Clara's style. Style wasn't something Clara had considered, if she was being honest.

"They must live somewhere," Clara mused aloud. "Find out where they live and wait there until they pitch up. Even if it's just a hotel that they frequent, or a lodge that they're only staying in for two days. They'll have to sleep at some point."

"That's one way of doing it," River admitted and Clara couldn't tell if she was impressed or not. In any case, she knew that it wasn't the way that River was going to do it.

"I suppose your way will be a lot more fun and a lot more stylish?" Clara asked, a light tone to her voice so that River didn't mistake her teasing for anything more antagonistic.

"Naturally sweetie," River replied casually. "Everything that I do, I do with style." They had come to a stop outside a large metal door and River punched in a security code. "2311," she told Clara quickly. "It's the Doctor's birthday."

Clara barely had time to process this information, her first thought being that they shared a birthday, before the door hissed and slid open. Clara turned back to River, biting her lip slightly and River gave her a look, inviting her to ask the question that was clearing playing with her mind and her tongue.

"The Doctor," Clara started, thinking of how best to phrase the question. "Why me? Why did he ask me to help him today?" It hadn't been bothering her per se, but she had to admit, she was more than a little curious. "Why not you, or Amy or Jake?"

"Because," River laughed. "The rest of us have learned that agreeing to do experiments with the Doctor is the worst idea you've ever had. Enjoy!" She gave Clara a little push through the doorway and blew her a kiss before the door shut between them.

Clara squeaked as she was shoved. She looked around the area that she was in, examining every aspect of it. It felt like a lab, but it was very cluttered, bits and bobs everywhere, boxes of what appeared to be junk on bookcases across the room. There were wide open spaces, testing areas dotted around and tables everywhere, blueprints upon blueprints, both electronic and paper copies, littering everything. Pouring over one of these blueprints, a paper one on a desk, a frown on his face, was the Doctor. She cleared her throat slightly and he shot up, his head clattering against a poorly positioned bookcase and he swore under his breath as he grinned at her.

"Clara!" he greeted, rubbing his hands together and rushing over to greet her. "You found me, good, very good. Now then, Jake asked me to test some non-lethal methods of incapacitation, I was hoping that you could be my test subject. Just a few experiments, nothing terribly painful, I just want to try and stun you."

Clara suddenly had a sinking feeling that this was going to end up being a very bad idea. The look on the Doctor's face told her that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing and she strongly suspected that she was about to endure a day of excruciating pain and probable humiliation. Still, she had agreed to it beforehand and the excited, playful demeanour that he exuded was like the world's greatest guilt trip. She sighed and nodded, resigned to her fate. The Doctor positioned her in one of the testing areas and gave her a thumbs up, that she reluctantly gave back.

She saw it rolling towards her gently. The Doctor had taken refuge, wearing goggles, crouching behind a counter, only his head visible, his hands over his ears. His appearance did not instil confidence. It was a grenade alright, just as Clara had suspected. She nudged it gently with her foot, her every instinct telling her to boot it back where it came from, if only to see the look on the Doctor's face when it exploded on him. And then it exploded and Clara let out a yelp as she was coated in a thick, white, disgusting substance, which showered her from head to toe. It was sticky against her skin and she felt it harden on her. It hardened in her mouth and ears, up her nose, crusting over. It smelled foul. It was everywhere, in her hair, in her shoes, pinning her clothes to her. She couldn't open her eyes, her tongue was welded in place. She tried to shake it off out of her hair, but her neck muscles wouldn't budge, no matter how hard she strained. She was thinking thoughts as foul as the gunk but not a single muscle in her body would move. She could barely breathe. She forced herself to remain calm and, despite the fact that her ears clogged up, she vaguely recognised the Doctor's voice, shouting to her that it would dissolve in an hour. Probably.

The Doctor was wrong. It didn't dissolve in one hour. It took three. And even then, it only dissolved to the point that Clara could move. It still clung to her, every orifice sticky with it, her hair thick with white like she had a horrific case of dandruff. She staggered free of the mess, the Doctor looking very pleased with himself as she approached him at a waddle, her limbs still largely fixed in place. She almost fell over twice as she crossed the training area.

"I hate you!" she mumbled, her jaw still locked horribly into place, the words a strain.

"This is great!" the Doctor grinned. "It lasts three times longer than anticipated, Jake will be utterly thrilled." Clara didn't share his enthusiasm. She grumbled incessantly as she went to shower, with him calling for her to hurry back. Her shower was one of the most painful experiences of her life. The stuff that was remaining was sticky as anything, it simply refused to be removed. She scrubbed her arms and legs red raw, peeling the stuff off her and it was like waxing only worse. The worst was her hair. It itched like crazy and the shampoo was doing nothing to it. By the time that she was finished scraping it out, Clara's scalp was burning and her hair lay on her shoulders, scraggly and tangled. She cursed the Doctor repeatedly as she dressed in loose clothing. She'd binned the clothes that she'd worn in that previous experiment.

He looked impatient as she returned to the lab, tapping his watch agitatedly. Clara wanted to stab him. The next experiment wasn't as bad, mainly because it wasn't as long. The Doctor hurled in the device, took cover and Clara resisted the almost irrepressible urge to throw it back in his stupid smug face. As it went off, she felt herself being electrocuted, her entire body crackled with the feeling. It didn't hurt too much, but she felt like she was tingling all over, the energy flowing in her and she could almost sense the electric currents coursing through her body. Then, the device faltered. She could feel the currents getting stronger inside her and she let out a hiss of pain. She could hear the Doctor swearing and then the device overloaded. The electricity shot through her, so powerful that it took her off her feet, burning her skin and she could feel it inside her, the streaks of energy it had left singing her organs. She pulled herself up to a sitting position, and the Doctor was staring at her, trying really hard not to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Clara growled, her voice threatening. The Doctor was in a fit of giggles and Clara caught her reflection in the glass. Her face and arms were covered in black soot, just like the Doctor had been earlier that day and her hair was stood on end so that she looked like Cruella De Ville and utterly deranged. She allowed herself a smile at her grotesque appearance and then she picked herself off the floor. "What's next?" she gasped. The Doctor was giving her a strange look. Maybe he had expected her to falter or back down, but Clara had no intention of showing him any weakness, she simply smirked at him and his face lit up.

The last experiment was with tranquiliser darts. If Clara had been entertaining the idea that that would somehow improve her situation, she was badly mistaken. As the tranq hit her leg, she went down like a sack of potatoes, but her leg started swelling up and going bright purple. She looked at the Doctor in panic who shrugged and approached carefully, poking her leg as she glared at him. It took almost an hour for her leg to go back to its normal size and for the purple hue to vanish, during which she still couldn't move.

"So listen," the Doctor muttered apologetically, running a hand through his hair as Clara hobbled to her feet, still feeling the aftereffects from the electric shock. "I feel, well I feel terrible about all this. Clearly, not all of my experiments are fully functional…" Clara snorted at this. "But you've helped me a great deal today and I wanted to take you out to dinner, you know to say…well…thanks!"

"Oh!" Clara hadn't been expected that, and she blushed slightly. "What like a date?" she countered quickly, a smirk appearing on her face as the Doctor went bright red and started stammering. "Relax Chin-Boy!" she laughed. "Come knock on my door in an hour."

And so, in exactly an hour's time, almost down to the second, Clara realised with a slight jolt, the crazy idiot with the huge chin was rapping on her door, freshly dressed in purple tweed and his customary stupid look on his stupid face. And then his jaw dropped when he saw her.

Clara was wearing a long red dress, with matching heels and lipstick. Her hair was sleek and shining, draped over one shoulder seductively. Her eyeliner was fierce, her earrings were her mum's and she felt dressed to kill. He was stuttering slightly, so she stepped out of her room, shutting the door behind her. His eyes were fixed on her and she gave him a sly smile.

"Ready to go?" she asked pleasantly, enjoying every second of his torture. He'd not seen her outside of her sweaty, grimy appearance and now that she had gone all out to make him flustered, fucking hell was he flustered.

"Yes!" he agreed quickly. "I mean yes, let's go. I mean, I know you don't know where we're going, but I know a little place. It's in London, I mean. Jake's not a fan of us going out in public, but I flaunt that rule every so often. On special occasions."

"So I'm special am I?" Clara asked sweetly, taking his arm and leaning into him slightly. The look on his face was priceless. He tried to answer her, but the words weren't coming to her and when she sent a hand brushing down his side, he audibly gasped.

Clara dropped the charade when they reached the restaurant and sat down. As amusing as it was to flirt relentlessly and leave the Doctor gawping and hyperventilating, she genuinely did enjoy his company, so sitting down for dinner, it was nice to have some actual conversation. Clara liked him, she had decided. His mannerisms, his quirks, they weren't for show, they were genuine and she found it really endearing. He was so sweet and funny and he was himself and she loved that about him. Nevertheless, he was clearly overwhelmed by her and she felt a little bad at how smitten he was coming off when he probably didn't mean to.

"Oh!" he said abruptly, about ten minutes into the meal, after they'd exchanged a bit of causal small talk about the team and ordered food. Clara raised an eyebrow at him as he fumbled around in his pocket and produced a long, cylindrical object that glowed green at the end. "Sonic screwdriver," he explained with a smile. "I invented it. Standard issue, thought you'd want it. Might be helpful with the assassins."

She tentatively reached out, taking the object from him, her fingers just gently touching his and she could feel his nerves. Her hand lingered on his for a moment longer than it should have done. She kept it there deliberately for half a breath longer, both to see his reaction and because she liked the feel of it.

"Speaking of the assassins," Clara recovered quickly, removing her hand and pocketing the sonic. "How come Jake's sending you out after one? I didn't think that you were qualified for field work?" She could tell that she had offended him, as he straightened his bow tie almost angrily.

"I'm more than qualified!" he insisted. "Jake insists that everyone is combat ready, I can fight just as well as you, if not better, I'm sure I'd beat you in a fight any day!" Clara doubted that, but there was something in his eyes that made her reluctant to ruffle his feathers further. "Besides, my strengths don't lie on the battlefield, although I'm perfectly capable. My strengths lie in the mind. In strategy and in technology. Jake knows that, but he likes to send me on mission every now and then, just to keep my skills up."

"I'm sure," Clara smirked. And then their food arrived and they were tucking in, Clara feeling the Doctor's eyes on her and she glanced up to look into his green orbs, flecked with gold around the rims. She could look at his eyes all day, she decided, as he blew his hair out of his eyes, a stray lock falling from the perfectly mantled quiff. At the right angle and in the right light, he was almost handsome, although that chin was still something that Clara would have to watch out for.

"So," she said casually. "Where exactly are you from? I feel like you know all this stuff about me, like you know my entire history, but I know next to nothing about your past, about your life. Jake said that you weren't human, so what are you?"

"Gallifreyan," he replied and the way his face shifted when he said it made her wish instantly that she hadn't asked. She almost followed her motherly instinct to reach out her hand to clasp his, but restrained herself. "I'm from the planet Gallifrey in the Castellation of Kasterborous. One of the greatest civilisations in the history of the universe. Jake found me in a forest, lost and alone, having run away from home. A great civilisation, but a corrupt one and I wanted out."

"Do you think you'll ever go back?" She should have known. Clara should have realised, before she'd even said it, that it was a bad question to ask, a really bad question. She should have known, from the look of pure pain that stretched itself onto his face when he had said the word: Gallifrey, that the answer would not be a pleasant one.

"I can't," he replied quietly.

"Why not?" she whispered. She knew it was hurting him, but she was curious and she wanted him to know that she was there for him. She reached out this time, her hands inches from his.

"It burnt."

There was a calamitous crashing noise to their left and Clara was on her feet in an instant, whipping round faster than she had expected herself to be able to. The Doctor was beside her, cursing under his breath as a chair and two people came flying out of the shattered window of the bar across the street. The two men scrambled to their feet and ran and Clara was already making for the door, the Doctor just a step behind her.

They crossed the road in a heartbeat, Clara not even bothering to question if they should be getting involved, as they leapt through the open window, Clara had her guard up, her hands already pulsing with energy, ready to unleash. The Doctor was calmer and when they got inside, Clara realised why. The bar was almost empty and completely trashed. Bar stools were up against the walls, tables were upended, people were unconscious everywhere. The Doctor didn't look even remotely surprised and Clara understood that. Of course he wasn't surprised. He'd probably only invited her out for dinner because he'd known that this was going to happen. Because stood in the middle of the carnage, so drunk that he was shaking and vomiting profusely, was Jake.


	6. Chapter 6: Everybody Dies

***Hey guys! This chapter is full to the brim with references from the wider Who world, a smattering of Whouffle, a smidgeon of badass Clara and an exploration of Jake. I really hope that you guys like it! Thanks as ever both to Chantelle and to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited so far. Please please let me know what you made of it! TPD***

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For Kevin Joust, the world had not been a kind place. He had spent so much of his life in foster care, desperately trying to find a family that treated him as something more than the mild irritation that he had always been his entire life. When he had turned eighteen and finally been kicked onto the streets, his entire life was in pieces. When he had learned how to fight, things got easier. When he learned how to kill, he was able to not just survive, but to live. And now, here he was, almost ten years later, one of the most sought after assassins on the planet, tracing a high profile target. Rudski Romanov was a high ranking Russian political figure. He was high up in the Siberian mountains, where he was trekking. Kevin had slowly been picking off his guards, one by one, until there would only be Rudski left. Kevin would happily have sniped Romanov, the same way his guards were dropping like flies, a single bullet to the head taking care of them instantly. None of them even had a chance to scream. Men and women, probably with families, snuffed out in an instant. But he couldn't. He had to give him a message first.

It was poetic in a way, but then Kevin had never been a man to contemplate the intricacies of death. He was paid to do a job, he did it. Life since the killing started, compared to life before the killing started, meant that he was simply never going to give up this job. Killing had given him his life back, if it had ever been his before. He was going to keep killing, until someone killed him. It was the way of life and it was all that he knew. He knew that sooner or later, it would catch up with him. But today was not going to be that day. Nobody was going to stop him collecting his payment for Romanov.

He picked off the final two guards in an instant, as they were the two stood next to Romanov. The sniper was silenced, so even though he doubted that the Russian heard the bullets slamming into the skulls of the two men protecting him. But the way they fell to the ground, blood oozing from their skulls, must have tipped him off. He had two options. Run or go a gun. If he ran, Kevin would shoot him in the leg. If he went for the gun, the hand first, then the leg, as losing the gun would almost certainly prompt him to run. He went for the running option, getting about ten feet before he flopped into the snow, the bullet tearing through his kneecap.

Kevin packed away his sniper rifle, whistling cheerily to himself as he strolled down the snowy hilltop he had been atop. It was as pleasant a day as could be asked for in Siberia, it was a cold, dreadful place generally, but for once the Sun was out and it was a bearable temperature. Kevin's eyes never left the crawling Russian, his babbled screams filling the air and they were ruining Kevin's whistling. Kevin cared not one jot for the man he was about to kill, but nor did he take any pleasure in it. It was just a job. His boots crunched against the snow and he shivered slightly, despite the temperature. He reached the Russian and Romanov was still crying out in anguish, but Kevin neither spoke Russian, nor cared.

"Harold Saxon sends his regards," Kevin said, without the hint of a smile. Then he pulled out his pistol and splattered Romanov's brains into the snow.

The walk back to the hut was far too long and far too cold. By the time that he had reached it, the small wooden hut with the electric heater that would serve as his quarters for the night until he was picked up the next morning by his employer. He yawned slightly as he kicked open the door and froze in shock at the sight of a girl, dressed entirely in black leather, sitting on his bed.

"Hey!" she greeted cheerfully, getting to her feet and crossing the room, her long brown hair swirling around her. She was beautiful and the leather hugged her in all the right places. She was showing quite a bit of cleavage, and as he was a good few inches taller than her, he was in the perfect position to stare at her rack. Kevin never denied himself simple pleasures in life and this girl was a simple pleasure.

"Who are you?" he demanded roughly, stepping back from her and pulling out his pistol. The girl raised her hands and gave him a bright smile, her brown eyes twinkling as she eyed him up and down. They may have been warm, but there was a sharpness to those eyes. This girl didn't miss a trick.

"I'm Clara," she informed him, taking a step closer to him. He pointed the gun at her skull, knowing that one squeeze of the trigger would end her life. "I'm here to help you. Well, offer you a choice."

"A choice?" Kevin frowned but didn't lower the weapon. The girl, Clara, didn't take her eyes off of him for a moment, she was transfixed on him and the gun, inevitably working out various ways to kill him. He could handle a human girl alright, a bullet to the brain did that job fine, but the way she held herself and the look in her eyes made him very wary of her. She wasn't as innocent as she would have him believe.

"There's an assassination attempt on the British PM planned. Know anything about it?"

"Just that the bounty will set me up for life," he shrugged. "But I have no intention of taking it, too many variables. I don't accept any job where I don't know who's paying me and I don't accept any job that involves Jake fucking Hunt. You hear stories. People who cross him end up dead."

"Exactly," the girl had visibly relaxed and Kevin put the pieces together and swore under his breath. "Relax, I'm not here to kill you."

"I'm still breathing," Kevin muttered. "So I'd worked that one out for myself."

"So here's my choice," Clara said casually and Kevin kept his finger locked around the trigger. "Come with me, right now. We lock you up for a week, in a cell, we keep you fed, watered, comfortable. No harm shall come to you and we'll release you after Halloween. Or, you can turn down my offer and wake up in said cell anyway, with one hell of a headache and significantly less sympathy and less comforts. Your call."

Kevin took a deep breath. He needed the payment and the confirmation from that last kill, or his bank balance and reputation would take a serious hit. But if he took on this Clara, he would end up in deep shit, worse if he killed her. He took a deep breath. And then he pulled the trigger.

She dodged the bullet of course, he'd known that she would. It wasn't about killing her, it was about distracting her. Just for a moment, so that he had time to throw the first punch and, as luck would have it, he managed to land it. Clara grunted, but didn't stagger and three punches later, Kevin was lying on the floor with the promised concussion and probably some internal bleeding to boot. He heard her mutter: "Why do the fuckers always choose the hard way?" and then he passed out.

* * *

The TARDIS kicked into life as Clara dragged the unconscious body of Kevin Joust behind her into the main base room. The Doctor smirked at her as he looked up from the computers upon her arrival. She flipped him off as she dragged the body down towards the holding cells, and the Gallifreyan fell in step beside her.

"This is becoming a habit with you," he teased. "I see you didn't get there in time to stop him assassinating Romanov, it's been all over the news." Clara shot him a look. "They're saying it was orchestrated by the British government."

"And was it?"

"Probably," the Doctor shrugged. "Jones is no fan of the Russians and Romanov's death is a real boost for Saxon's chemical welfare policy." Clara nodded, uninterested. She stared at the Doctor, waiting for him to answer her unasked question. He blinked back at her.

"Did you ask me to dinner last night because you wanted to go out with me?" she asked pointedly and he flinched slightly. "Or to keep an eye on Jake?"

"Mostly…the first one?" he tried and Clara rolled her eyes, darting past him to throw Joust into his cell and then she promptly turned on her heels, walking slightly faster so that the Doctor was forced to scurry to keep up with her. "Clara! Wait!"

"I don't mind!" she told him, but not slowing down. "Honestly, I don't. I would just have appreciated the warning." She wheeled about to face him, concern glistening over her eyes. "How is he?" she asked softly and the Doctor shrugged.

"Recovering from a nasty hangover. The power should have stopped him for getting so drunk, but he keeps leaving himself vulnerable, lowering his energy levels so that he can get pissed without having to worry about the power knocking the edge off. Could you talk to him?" the Doctor implored and Clara raised an eyebrow at that.

"You're his best friend," she reminded the Doctor. "He doesn't trust me enough to have me running around without a little chip in my head that goes boom if I misbehave, why don't you talk to him?" The Doctor snorted with laughter and Clara glared at him. "What?"

"Nothing."

"No!" she demanded. "Seriously. What?"

"Nothing!" he protested and then a small smile grew on his face and she crossed her arms at him. "It's just…you didn't really believe that nonsense did you?" Clara's jaw dropped and she felt a horrible sense of role reversal coming on as she was the one flustering and stammering and the Doctor was the smug one in complete control. "Awww bless, Jake would never do that to you. It was a dud, to make you think that he could kill you if he betrayed him." Clara suddenly felt very stupid and she turned to walk away from the Doctor so that he couldn't see the embarrassment written all over her face. "Dinner tonight?" he called after her and she stopped in her tracks.

"As long as we get to dessert this time," she called back, not turning to face him but smiling despite herself. "I have a hankering for a soufflé."

"Well you're in luck, Soufflé Girl," the Doctor informed her and she giggled at the nickname. "I happen to know the place with the best soufflés in the whole of London. And Jake will be bed-ridden, so there's no way he can interrupt us. But he won't listen to me anymore. I think he needs a fresh face, someone who isn't repeating the same old rhetoric."

"Okay then," Clara replied, sensing the conversation had somehow drifted completely out of her control and she could only imagine how smug the Doctor looked. "Shall we say 8? If I'm going to talk to Jake then I'll need time to get ready."

"Of course," the Doctor agreed and she heard him falter slightly at the mention of her getting ready, so she managed to regain her smirk with that. "See you at 8…Clara."

Clara ignored him, recommencing her dramatic exit, which had lost all of its power. There was something about the way that her name rolled off his tongue that made her want to curl up into a ball, it felt like by giving him her name, she had somehow given him a weapon over her and Clara hated the notion of anyone having any sort of power over her. Her ego had already taken one hell of a battering, every fight that she had with Jake had seen to that. But she liked thinking that she had the Doctor wrapped under her thumb, when in truth, she strongly suspected that the opposite was the case.

Clara made her way to where she knew Jake's room was and rapped slightly lightly on the open door as he smiled at her from his bed. He was topless, the covers pulled up over his waist and Clara breathed in deeply at the sight of his incredible muscles. He was skinny as hell, but blimey did he have abs.

"Hey," he greeted in a hoarse voice. "I hear you were party to my breakdown in the pub last night, I can't apologise enough for that."

"You gonna tell me what happened?" Clara asked as she propped herself on the end of his bed, raising her eyebrows questioningly at him and crossing his arms.

"Nope," Jake gave her a warm, but horribly empty smile. "You look at me a certain way Clara, I don't want you to look at me differently. Now I'd much rather talk about you and the Doctor." Her cheeks burned. "There it is. You two are cute together. How'd the date go?"

"He told me that his planet burned," Clara replied quietly, because she could think of nothing else to say. "Do you know anything about that?"

Jake's perfectly controlled face fell. He scratched his jaw-line and Clara could see him weighing it up in his mind, so she gave him her most imploring face. He sighed and threw his head back and she knew that she had him.

"I was there," he admitted and Clara's breath caught in her throat. "I found the Doctor on Gallifrey. He was a teenager back then and I'd barely gotten into the business myself. We became firm friends rather quickly and he was the man I wanted by my side as I built my team. My right hand man. Seven years ago," Jake paused, as if getting it straight in his head. "There was a war. A war that I started, with a race so evil that they had to be wiped out. They were called the Daleks and they were sweeping across the cosmos, exterminating everyone who didn't fit their level of supremacy. And the Doctor was magnificent, he took on the Daleks with a ferocity that made him feared among them, he was one hell of a leader and a battle commander. So they took everything from him. They took Gallifrey and they burned it to the core, killing every living thing on the planet. By the time that the Doctor and I got there, the Daleks had slaughtered billions and had rigged the core to blow. It was a giant trap and we walked into it. Not all of us walked out…"

"What happened?" Clara breathed, a tear slipping down her cheek.

"The Doctor had a girlfriend. Her name was Rose. The Daleks killed her. We barely escaped with our lives before Gallifrey imploded. So the Doctor and I made a vow. And then we went," Jake's voice was utterly emotionless as he stared Clara right in the eyes. "And we did what we had to do. We killed them. Every single stinking Dalek in existence. We sent them all to whatever hell they believe in. And that was it. No more Daleks. But the Doctor had lost everything. Everything except the person responsible. Me. That's the thing Clara. I'm toxic. Everyone around me dies. Or worse, loses people that they can't live without. The Doctor lost his entire planet, he lost Rose. And the others…"

"Go on," Clara prompted, nodding and he looked at him sadly.

"Five years ago, Rory lost his mentor, his closest friend. Her name was Martha Jones, she was the team medical technician before Rory, she trained him as best she could. She did a damned good job of it too. Rory learned so much from her, idolised her. And then she was ripped from him, from us. A town was getting bombed. I ordered an evacuation. It was only after I'd gotten everyone about ten miles clear that I realised Martha had disobeyed my orders and stayed to help some of the wounded who were beyond help. She died with them. A waste." The way he spat his words made Clara wince.

"And then there was Donna. She was so close to Amy, it was as if they were sisters. Donna was an expert at undercover work, she could infiltrate anywhere as a temp or a secretary and they'd never suspect a thing until she scarpered with all their files or accidentally opened a maintenance hatch that flooded the thing or let one of us in in the dead of night. And then, three years ago, she was undercover at a nuclear plant. We knew that there was going to be a terrorist attack, so she was there to make sure that nothing went wrong. Of course there are fail safes for a terrorist attack, to pretend the fallout ever leaving the plant. They were disabled, but Donna got them back up, just in time to stop the radioactive fallout killing millions but she was trapped inside and incinerated instantly. Amy was disconsolate."

"And what about River?" Clara asked quietly, almost not wanting to hear the answer.

"Her twin brother, Jack." Clara hung her head. "That was nearly a year ago, Jack was who I lined you up to replace," he mused, still allowing no emotion to creep into his voice. "He was an all-rounder. He was the funniest guy you'd ever meet, you'd have loved him. I recruited River and Jack together from a bar on the other side of the galaxy, shortly before their thirtieth birthday. The terrifying twins they were called. Jack Harkness and River Song, nobody knew their real names. But they'd been scamming people for years, across the Boeshane Peninsula. And then Jack got shot during a bar fight. No idea how he even managed it, but he let his energy levels drop dangerously low. River was furious. She'd been sleeping with the Doctor at the time and Jack found out, which was why he was in the bar that night. River, naturally, blamed herself and the Doctor. They've not…well you know."

"Ah," Clara nodded her approval but she wasn't about to let up. They both knew what her next question would be and he was begging her not to ask it with his eyes. "And who did you lose?"

"All of them," he answered, so quickly that it was a reflex, a defence mechanism. It wasn't a lie, of course it wasn't. But it wasn't the truth and it wasn't what Clara had been asking him and they both knew it. "I lost Donna, Martha, Jack and Rose and because of me, all of my friends ended up losing the people they cared about. Everybody dies Clara. And, most of the time, it's entirely my fault."

"You can't blame yourself," Clara said gently. "It's the job, you warn us going in…"

"And yet here you are," he said flatly. "I can't resist you. Any of you. I see you, your brimming potential and I think: she could be good. She could be the best of us. And I take you under my wing and before I know it, you're dead. Or your family is dead, your friends are dead, the people you love are dead…"

"Jake," she said firmly and he shut up. "Stop it. Nothing is going to happen to me. I promise."

His smile was sad as he leaned over to wretch his stomach contents into a bucket. "I wish I could believe that Clara. I really do."


	7. Chapter 7: Bullets and Soufflés

***Hey troops! Good news is, I only have one exam and two days left now until FREEDOM! Which means more Whouffle than I'll know what to do with! I have 50 short prompts that'll be coming up on here over the next couple of weeks, including those from DWfest over on tumblr and I should have a new multi-Doctor fic ready for by the time this one is finito! Anyway, in this chapter, we meet Harriet Jones and the Doctor bakes Clara a soufflé! Enjoy! As ever thanks to the wonderful Chantelle and all my amazing readers, reviewers, followers and favouriters! Please please let me know what you made of it! Tomorrow: birthdays and Harold Saxon. TPD***

* * *

Clara was stood about three feet from Harriet Jones, the Prime Minister of Great Britain. If you had told her six months ago that she would be responsible for the life of the most important person on the planet, she'd have laughed in your face. Now, she could only think about how important it was that nothing went wrong, that Harriet Jones did not die on her watch. A big, burly man, with more hair than was strictly necessary and a body odour that did him no favours, was stood beside her, with Clara closest to the podium where Harriet was giving her speech. On Harriet's other side was Jake, his casual demeanour fully restored and he was flirting lightly with the cute blonde bodyguard who wasn't even remotely interested and Clara was pretty sure she'd threatened to shoot Jake at least twice. Clara could see the cracks in Jake's smile and breezy laugh, but only because she was looking for them. Plus, her senses had grown a lot more astute.

"I want to cook for you tonight," came a voice in her earpiece. Clara smiled despite herself.

"Fuck off," she hissed under her breath. "I'm on a mission."

"Yes," he replied with a sigh. "I'm aware. I'm co-ordinating the mission."

"Then you shouldn't be using the coms to flirt when you're supposed to be co-ordinating!" Clara giggled back, shooting a look at Jake to make sure that he hadn't spotted their conversation. "Yes, you can cook for me; now get back to co-ordinating!"

It was fair to say that things were going well with the Doctor. They'd been out almost every night since she'd joined the team and she got on really well with him. Since their first lab session, she had point blank refused to even enter his lab, despite his whining and probing of her to just subject herself to one more test. Judging by the state of him on their dates, when he made no effort to cover the burn marks, the hair loss or the limping, he was testing most of his products on himself. Clara felt a little guilty, but was still of the attitude that she'd rather it happened to him than her. Still, they had a lot of fun and she knew that he was still plucking up the courage to try and kiss her and she was being as alluring as possible, giving him increasingly more cleavage to gawp at like a moron, enjoying the looks on his idiotic face when he saw her. She dedicated at least five minutes to the start of every date to making him stammer like a small child. Nevertheless, he was determined to pay her back and he usually found at least one way to make her blush like a five year old girl.

"You two realise that the coms are being kept wide open for a reason?" Jake snapped and Clara did her best to look guilty as he flashed a glare her way, and she was fairly sure she could hear giggling down the coms. "Now for fuck's sake, keep them open and silent unless we need them for something. Amy, Rory, River, are you in position?"

"Check," she heard Rory reply.

"Check," she heard Amy reply.

"Affirmative sweetie," she heard River reply. She allowed herself to relax a little. Amy and Rory were mingling with the crowds, in amongst the flood of politicians and bystanders that had come to listen to Harriet Jones' great speech. River was on the opposite rooftop with a sniper rifle, waving it over the crowd, ensuring that nobody tried anything. Clara had to admit, Jake had instilled her with quite a bit of confidence when he'd informed her that all fifteen of the assassins were crossed off his list. He didn't expect anyone would try anything.

"Doctor," she heard Jake's voice in her ear. "How're the cameras doing?"

"Uh…oh mother fuck," she couldn't stop herself from laughing at the Doctor swearing, it was such an unnatural sound. "At least two of them have been taken down. Whether it's just faulty wiring or a bird or something like that or whether it's…"

"I'm going to check the perimeter," Jake growled. "Clara, don't leave Harriet's side for a second. I won't be five minutes." Clara realised that was looking directly at her, so she nodded slightly as Jake was in furious conversation with the blonde, the button pressed on his watch so that she couldn't overhear. The blonde nodded and they swapped positions, allowing Jake to slide off the stage and then he was gone from Clara's sight. She felt horribly exposed without him and she heard the Doctor's voice in her ear.

"Just relax Clara," he told her. "Everything's going to be fine. Is everyone still in position?"

"Check."

"Check."

Amy and Rory had both responded. But River hadn't.

"River?" she heard Jake ask frantically. Nothing.

Clara saw the bullet but she didn't hear the gun going off. She wouldn't have done, for it was River's silenced sniper that fired the bullet. Later, during the debrief, Clara would learn that River had been knocked out from behind, a blow so well placed and savage that she didn't stand a chance to defend herself. It was all very convenient. But in that moment, none of that information was available to Clara. All she saw was the bullet, whizzing towards the head of the PM at an incredible speed. She moved faster than she would have thought possible and dived, catching the bullet in her left shoulder. Clara went down, howling in pain as the bullet lodged itself in her shoulder. The pain was incredible. If Harriet Jones had had a modicum of intelligence, she would have dived behind the podium. In fairness to her, she probably did try, but she should have reacted faster. The second between Clara diving to take the bullet and when the second shot was fired could have been enough time for her to hit the ground, as her bodyguards flew in from all sides.

But she didn't. She never got the chance. Because the second bullet was piercing the space between her eyes and shooting through her brain and out the other side even as Clara hit the ground wounded shoulder first. She gasped in pain and pushed herself into a sitting position, as the dead body of Harriet Jones hit the stage with a resounding and deafening thud. There was a moment of pure silence. And then anarchy.

* * *

Jake was absolutely livid. After listening to him yell at River for a good twenty minutes through the walls of the medical bay where Clara was sat, Rory rummaging around in her shoulder, Clara was expecting to get it in the neck next. However, as he stormed into the medical bay, the look on his face was a compassionate one and Clara allowed herself a sigh of relief.

"Are you alright?" Jake asked frantically, shooting a look at Rory who nodded. "Thank fuck. Did you give her the antidote?"

"Antidote?" Clara squeaked.

"I did," Rory replied quickly. "River coats all of her bullets in poison from the Judas tree, so anyone who survives the bullet ends up dead pretty quickly. I didn't tell her, because I didn't want to worry her unnecessarily!" he added irritatedly and Jake threw up his hands in apology. "I'll have that bullet out in a moment, but the bastard's difficult to dislodge, you know what River's like when it comes to bullets."

"That gun was isomorphic," Jake scowled. "Only River should have been able to fire it. And, the assassin managed to hack our system, knock down two of our cameras. A clever distraction. I've got the Doctor looking into it. He thinks it's possible someone could have used River's unconscious hand to fire the bullets, simulating her vital signs, because the gun shouldn't fire if its user is unconscious, like River was. Either way, somebody's got under our skin and now Harriet Jones is dead and you've got a bullet in you. How long will she be out of action Rory?"

"Jake…" Clara couldn't move because Rory was still fiddling about inside her shoulder but she tried to communicate with her eyes that she was absolutely fine and would be able to return to combat straight away. But Jake ignored her, focusing on Rory, who removed his face from the wound to bite his lip and look at Jake.

"A week?" he suggested. "The wound will heal quickly, but she'll need some practice on that left arm, get it back to full intensity before I can clear her to go back into the field. Sorry Jake, but if it helps, her right arm's perfectly fine, the left is the only injury."

"Well that's just dandy," Jake snapped. "Alright Oswald, as soon as that wound's healed over, I want you training on that left hand. Rory, when you've finished up here, can you just give River the once over. She insists that she's fine, but I'd be surprised if she wasn't concussed. Still, at least that'll teach her to mind her fucking surroundings."

Jake turned on his heels and was muttering darkly to himself as he left. Clara and Rory exchanged a look and then they fell back into a mostly comfortable, slightly awkward silence until Rory finally succeeded in picking the bullet out, exclaiming "Aha!" triumphantly and giving Clara a big grin as he dropped the bullet into a little basin.

"Thanks," Clara mumbled, lying back as he applied a dressing to the wound. "So how long have you been a team member?" she quizzed, trying to start conversation. After all, she was going to be working with Rory for the rest of her life, she ought to get to know him.

"Almost six years," Rory said, whistling slightly at it. "Crazy, right?" Clara couldn't help but agree. "You get used to it. But then, it seems to me that you're alright used to it," he noted and Clara flushed slightly at that. "The way you took down Simeon, the way you took that bullet for Jones, you're a natural."

"No, I'm really not," Clara found herself feeling suddenly shy and slightly abashed as Rory chuckled and gave her a warm smile. "I'm just good at looking like I have a clue what I'm doing," Clara laughed, feeling more at ease already. "I get the impression that that's what the Doctor does, right?" Rory laughed as well at that.

"Honestly," he leaned in close conspiratorially. "I've not got a clue either. I'm not even sure Jake does and he's in charge of this party." Clara giggled. "I know you find Jake…difficult. He didn't used to be like this. The smiles, the casualness, you see it as a mask. But it didn't used to be. He's keeping up appearances. He thinks that if we can imagine he's carrying on, then we'll stop worrying about him. But I worry about him anyway. So do you."

"Of course I worry about him," Clara groaned. "He brought me into this world, all of it. And he seems so…brutal. I sometimes wonder what he's capable of. What happened?"

"If he hasn't told you," Rory sighed. "There's a reason he doesn't want you to know. Maybe because you're the only person he has left who doesn't realise how broken he is inside."

"He told me that the job was all that there was," Clara mused. "That was a lie."

"He used to be happy," Rory conceded. "Now, I think that he's only happy when he's hitting somebody or something." Clara nodded her agreement. "You're all fixed up, but we should definitely hang out more," he noted and again, Clara nodded, this time mustering a smile. "I'd be happy to train with you once this arm's healed, hopefully get you back in the game quicker?" Rory offered and Clara nodded for a third time, her smile widening.

"I'd like that," she informed him. "Thanks a lot Rory."

Rory shrugged like it was nothing. "Don't mention it," he replied. "It's what I'm here for. Besides, we're going to together now, so it only makes sense that we become friends, it'll make both of lives a hell of a lot easier. Now run along, I'm sure that the Doctor is eager to show you the results of his culinary prowess. You're in for a treat, he's a bloody good cook!"

Clara giggled and got to her feet, slowly but surely, her shoulder burning slightly as she pressed herself up and she could have sworn Rory was going to have a coronary episode. She put an apologetic hand up as he shot her a disapproving look. She was going to have to make sure that she didn't put any weight on the damned thing, lest Rory or the Doctor kill her for it. She could feel the numbness in her left arm subsiding slightly as she sidled out the medical bay, Rory beside her and then darting into the next bay to check on River.

Finding her way to the kitchen was easy by now. She had assumed that the Doctor would be there, rather than in his bedroom, which she was proud to admit, she was yet to enter. He'd been in her room a couple of times, but only when he was waiting for her to grab bits and bobs. There were plenty of communal spaces and she didn't feel intimately connected enough with him yet to feel like she should be inviting him onto her bed. She could hear conversation filtering through from the kitchen, but it was angry conversation and she stopped dead, a few centimetres from the door when she heard her own name being mentioned. The female voice that was arguing with the Doctor had to have been Amy, her Scottish tones unmistakeable as they rattled Clara's inner ear.

"Of course I don't trust her!" Amy exploded. "She's been with us, what a week and you're already jumping into bed with her? Jake's judgement has gone to shit recently and you know it, yet you're still standing here, defending her, defending Jake?"

"So what, because she's new we shouldn't trust her?" the Doctor sounded angry and Clara felt her heart skip a beat. "Amy, Jake's judgement is not his problem and we both know that. You're using his mistakes as an excuse to hit out at Clara because you don't like the idea of me moving on with my life. River made her choice, so did I and we're both comfortable with it. So why aren't you?"

Clara could hear Amy slap the Doctor and she winced as she heard him yelp in pain.

"This is not about River," Amy growled and purely from her tone, Clara couldn't help but agree. "I've not once mentioned that to you since it happened, because I knew why River broke it off with you, I understood and I respected it. Hell I don't blame her. Don't twist my words so that you can justify your replies to them Doctor. This is about you getting yourself into a situation where you're vulnerable with someone who you do not know, and who you should not trust." Clara hated to admit that Amy had a point, but as she pinned herself to the wall, she couldn't see the Doctor's potential response. She knew she was trustworthy, but Amy didn't. "Everyone else may be on board with this, but I am not."

Clara didn't dare breathe as she heard Amy come thundering her way. Fortunately, Amy didn't see her, she was too wrapped up in her own anger and she flew off down the corridor, facing away from Clara, giving Clara a moment to compose herself. She took a deep breath and waited what she thought was an appropriate amount of time before sweeping into the kitchen, suddenly aware of every little thing, like the sweat on her face, the way her hair was grubbily tied up, the fact that she was still wearing her combat gear and that she had a bullet hole in her shoulder. But those insecurities only existed for a moment, as the Doctor smiled, relieved by her appearance.

"Clara!" he greeted, giving her a nod as he whisked furiously. "I'm baking you a soufflé."

"I can see," she replied, her heart sinking slightly and he clocked it straight away, it was written all over her face apparently. "What sort of soufflé?"

"A surprise soufflé!" he replied, and his smirk spelled trouble. Clara felt uneasy but the way he swept her into his arms to hug her when he stopped whisking made her feel a lot better. "You'll love it, trust me," he assured her, tapping her nose gently with his flour tipped finger and dancing back around the kitchen, his tweed fluttering around behind him. His actions managed to send warm shoots down Clara's spine and she smiled reluctantly. "Just sit down, it's going in the oven any minute."

Clara responded, finding a stool at the work top, watching him work, flicking flour at him occasionally, much to his annoyance. She could hear his grumbling, but it only made her more inclined to flick it at him, as he glared furiously at her. After a couple of minutes, he put the soufflé mix in the oven and turned back to her, crossing his arms. And then he picked up the bag of flour and dumped the entire contents on Clara's head defiantly.

"Oh you fucker!" Clara screamed as flour cascaded onto her, sitting in an awkward pile on top of her head and raining down onto her face and hair when she tried to remove it. "Doctor!" she squealed angrily as he burst into fits of laughter. She threw herself at him across the work top, her body colliding with his as they hit the floor. She forgot all of her training, all of her fancy moves, she just pounded furiously at his chest as he rolled them over so he was on top and then as she tried to push him off, he seemed to stop fighting and, despite herself, Clara also stopped. She didn't know why, but it was something in the way he was looking at her. He leaned forwards and Clara rushed to meet him, their lips finding each other's and she felt her heart flutter slightly as she gave in to the kiss. It only lasted a minute before the Doctor started coughing, brushing flour off himself and clambering off Clara.

"Christ, that stupid flour got everywhere," he whined, with nothing more than a few white specks on his tweed and face, whilst Clara's entire upper half was white. She was pretty sure that Rory would be furious with her and that she'd probably pulled out her stitches. Even now, she could feel her shoulder screaming at her in agony, and she was really beginning to regret throwing herself at the Doctor.

"You're hilarious," Clara said pointedly, picking herself up and wincing slightly at the pain, which, naturally, the Doctor didn't miss and was over at her side in moments, brushing flour off of the area surrounding the wound.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled and she rolled her eyes before kissing the corner of his mouth, her flour flecked lips meeting his slightly scratchy skin. She looked at him, the brown of her eyes more prevalent when framed by so much white.

"Don't be," she insisted. "You made me feel better. Now, how much longer on that soufflé?"

"Don't you want to clean up first?" he asked gently and she shrugged, retaking her position on the stool and running a hand through her hair, removing as much flour as she could. "Okay then," the Doctor grinned nervously and she could tell he was placing a lot of his hopes on this soufflé. "I had to hack a dead person's computer to get this soufflé."

Clara rolled her eyes at his dramatic style and then the soufflé was plonked in front of her and when she took a bite, it was the most heavenly soufflé she'd ever tasted. More than that, it wasn't just any old soufflé. It was her mum's soufflé. She stared at the Doctor, shock evident on her face and he must've looked slightly apprehensive. And then she launched herself over the counter again and started kissing him again.


	8. Chapter 8: Birthday Wishes

***Hey guys, a new day a new chapter and this time, it's a joint Whouffle birthday hurray! Plus, we meet Harold Saxon! I hope that you guys like it and, as ever, thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited and special thanks to my beta, the amazing Chantelle. TPD***

* * *

Clara spent a good proportion of the day before her birthday contemplating the fact that she had not had sex in a very long time. It had been comfortably over a year for her, and even then, it had been almost twice that since she'd had good sex. The kind of sex where you screamed out loud, smashed against the headboard, broke your bed. That kind of sex. She had never seen herself as the sort of person who needed sex, but when she considered how long it had truly been, she found herself with an odd craving for it. She felt her body aching and groaning, protesting how long it had been since she'd been properly pleasured. And Clara did not for a second allow herself to believe that this sudden, urging for sexual contact was coincidental. As much as it annoyed her to admit it, this desire had come from the Doctor.

They had been gradually getting closer and closer over the weeks since their first kiss and Clara could feel herself becoming attracted to the goofball. He was sweet, genuinely sweet and he hadn't pushed her at all. To the point where almost all intimate contact between them had had to have been initiated by Clara. Which she didn't mind, she loved feeling in control, but he had an irritating way of making it backfire on her, so she came off as the needy one and he was the one who couldn't care less, when she could see in his eyes exactly how much he wanted her. And she wanted him. She made no secret of the fact that she wanted to ravish the Doctor and have him ravish her. The only person stupid enough to not get the ridiculous hints that she was dropping was the idiot that she actually wanted to get them. River and Jake had taken to shooting her smug looks when she and the Doctor were in the same room, Rory looked continually awkward and Amy's nostril were perpetually flared.

Clara hadn't mentioned to the Doctor that she'd overheard his argument with Amy, nor did she have any intention of mentioning it. She felt guilty enough that Amy was angry at the Doctor on her behalf, without guilt tripping him as well. She had hoped that Amy would cool off, but she was showing no signs of being even civil to Clara, and she really seemed to resent when Clara spent time with Rory, who was at least making an effort to accommodate Clara. She'd been with the team almost a month and almost everyone was being super friendly, so she already felt like a part of the family.

Jake had at least seemingly calmed, although Clara was constantly keeping an eye on him. She felt like there was an inferno behind his casual demeanour and he could explode at any moment, even if he never showed any signs of being on edge. Clara was therefore slightly apprehensive when she stepped into the main base room, still thinking about the Doctor, and Jake called her over, thrusting a newspaper in her direction.

"It's official," he announced, giving her a look. "We have a new British Prime Minister. Harold Saxon has taken over, following the death of Harriet Jones. No surprise of course, he was her deputy after all. But nevertheless, it's now the case. We're meeting him tomorrow."

"We?" Clara raised an eyebrow. "Who's we?"

"You and I," Jake replied nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair. "I have to go, I'm the leader of this team and we need to brief him on the state of affairs. And you haven't had any taste of politics yet, so I'd like to get you up to speed. It's a joy." His voice dripped sarcasm.

"You know it's…"

"Yes," he agreed with a sigh. "I know it's your birthday. The Doctor's taking you out for a lovely dinner, it'll be very fancy and wonderful, blah, blah, blah, you'll be back in time, don't worry. When you two lovelorned morons get back from your schmoozing, we're going to have a few drinks, you, me, him and the Ponds." Clara shot him a look of confusion. "River's on mission, won't be back for a week or so. Bloody bunch of Miners on the planet Galspiea got their hands on some radioactive plutonium and are threatening to blow the planet's core if they don't get what they want. River's gone to mediate, but negotiations could take a while. Anyway, she won't be back before tomorrow night."

"Damn," Clara muttered, settling onto the sofa. She liked River a lot, but then River was a very easy person to get along with. "Amy doesn't trust me," she said out loud, then caught herself. She'd been musing over telling Jake for days now, even if she couldn't tell the Doctor or Amy herself that she knew it. Jake pulled a face. Clara sensed he'd been dreading this conversation.

"Yes," he said bluntly, trying to avoid into Clara's eye. "You're quite right. But I wouldn't worry about it. Amy's not the most trusting, she's worried that you'll give the Doctor some horrible disease or some rubbish. What matters is that Amy isn't representative." He was looking at her now and Clara smiled slightly as he smiled back. "I trust you," he said sincerely. "And that should be good enough for Amy."

"Thanks," Clara mumbled, running a hand through her hair as Jake stared at her intently. "I just wish I didn't feel like I had to win her over. I've been here a month and everyone's been great, but with Amy it feels like I'm fighting a losing battle and it's not as if this is a problem that I can solve by kicking it in the head or anything like that."

Jake snorted at that and Clara knew he was contemplating who would win in a fight between Clara and Amy in his head. She threw a mug that was lying on the table at him and he caught it lazily, shooting her a bright smile. At that point, the Doctor walked in and Jake's face erupted into a smirk so ferocious that it sent a blush raging to Clara's face.

"I hate you."

"I know."

* * *

Clara had never taken an interest in politics. She'd voted what her dad told her to vote for, never really interested in the general running of the country, as it rarely extended to her little corner of home, where her village had never really talked politics, even when election time came along. It was always too quiet for that and Tom and Danny rarely discussed anything other than school, football or their co-workers. It was, looking back, not the most interesting life, but Clara had enjoyed it nevertheless.

Yet here she was, going to meet Harold Saxon, the new PM of Great Britain. Jake had basically told her to shut up and let him do the talking, warned her that it would be very boring and not to worry if he was creepy, if he tried anything, Clara could hit him. Jake wasn't arrogant, he simply didn't give a shit if the PM liked him or not. Ultimately, he didn't really need the PM for anything, whereas the PM needed Jake and that gave Jake the ability to treat politicians however he damn well pleased.

They were let into Downing Street and Jake whistled cheerily as they walked down the halls, Clara easily keeping pace with him where a few months ago, she would have been struggling. It still surprised her how much she had changed occasionally, she'd just be struck by the sight of her muscles or by how easy a door was to open or how punching a brick wall did more damage to the wall than to her. Jake held open the door to the PM's office for her and they stepped inside which was when she really got her first impression of Harold Saxon.

He was halfway between her height and Jake's, with short, dark hair that was again, somewhere between Clara's dark brown and Jake's jet black and shorter than both. He wore a tight suit, moved in a very business-like way and had an easy, warm smile. He invited them to sit, his voice oozing velvet. But there was something about him. It was almost as if he was too easy, too kind, too warm, and there was something bubbling underneath the surface. Not anger, he didn't remind her of Jake in that way. She couldn't put her finger on it, but all of his pleasantries and his smiles and his soft voice, he unnerved her. She felt incredibly uneasy in his presence and she could almost feel the distrust melting of Jake beside her. When Saxon turned his back to pour Jake a brandy, they exchanged a look, but Jake saw off the brandy in one, despite Clara's reproaching look.

Jake was right about her sitting there and contributing little to the conversation, it was dull and half of it went right over her head. But every so often, Saxon would look at her and smile, asking for her opinion and she'd give it where she had one. That was it, she realised, as he turned to her for the sixth time or so. His eyes. It wasn't the way that he looked at her, forensically examining her, no she was used to that. It was the fact that the eyes examining her were completely and utterly dead. It was all so convincing, except the eyes. There was nothing in them, they were cold, black stones, completely free of any sort of emotion. He looked like he could lean across the table and snap her neck in an instant and nothing would change in his eyes. And as much as Clara wanted to deny it, that terrified her.

"That was far more intense than it had any right to be," Jake muttered as they left, walking towards a safe and dark alley to use the TARDIS. "What did you make of him?"

"He's a fucking psychopath," Clara diagnosed with a shudder and Jake chuckled darkly at that. Clara glared at him. "Do you think he orchestrated Harriet Jones's assassination?" she whispered, looking over her shoulder at the guards as they slipped into the alleyway.

"Wouldn't surprise me," Jake shrugged.

"Well shouldn't we do something?" Clara protested. "I mean, if he did murder Harriet, then that means he should not be allowed anywhere near a position of power, right?"

"Yeah," Jake acknowledged. "Sucks for the British."

"But we are…" Clara started, stopping at Jake's very pointed look. She knew what he was going to say, so gave him a glare back to stop the inevitable speech about being a ghost.

"Look," Jake sighed. "If there's any evidence that what Saxon is up to poses any danger to the planet, then we'll intervene. And trust me, I'll be watching him very closely. But unless he's a megalomaniac as well as a psychopath, then I doubt he'll be more than a blip on our radar. It pisses me off that someone went to such lengths to get him into power and it pisses me off that we got mugged off by whoever did it. I have my eyes on him, but there's no evidence linking him to the assassination and it could well be a coincidence."

Clara didn't bother to tell him that she didn't believe in coincidences, because she could tell from the look on his face that he didn't either. So they merely glared at each other for a moment longer and then the TARDIS kicked into gear and they were gone.

* * *

The Doctor had promised her a fancy dinner and he did not disappoint. They were sat in the finest restaurant in London, eating the finest meal that money could buy. Clara was tempted to ask how he had got a reservation but knew that it would involve hacking into some very complicated network and she didn't really care enough to deal with the long-winded explanation. The meal was lovely, but it felt very stuck-up and Clara felt out of place. She could tell that she was getting looks as she devoured her ice cream, almost moaning at how good it was. The Doctor, across the table, was having just as much fun with his food and had even managed to avoid knocking over the candle on their table and setting fire to the table, as he had done on their previous three meals.

When they left, Clara instantly felt more comfortable. She could curl up into his arms as they walked down the busy London streets, away from the hustle and bustle and into a side alley to TARDIS. They transported back into the main base room and Clara realised with a jolt that she considered herself home. She leaned up and kissed the Doctor gently on the lips. She was kind of frustrated that she couldn't just drag him to her room and fuck him there and then, but the Ponds and Jake had been waiting for them, with the beers and wine already cracked open and corked.

And it wasn't that Clara didn't want to have a good evening with her friends, that wasn't it at all. It was more that she just wanted a few hours alone with the Doctor and that didn't look like happening. Amy at least had calmed her anger, at least for the evening and she was perfectly civil towards Clara, the laughing and giggling atmosphere as Clara let her power levels slide so that the alcohol could do its work and as she sipped on wine, she instantly felt better about the situation.

As the evening went on, she found herself caring less and less about the others and found herself getting physically closer and closer to the Doctor, as the alcohol started to affect her increasingly. The Doctor, bless him, could not handle his drink and was overly cheery and giggling after an hour or so, reciprocating Clara's close proximity until, much to Amy's disgust, the two were practically on top of each other sooner rather than later, at which point Jake quickly suggested presents. The group had chipped in for their presents, the Doctor receiving a new, fresh, white lab coat which he absolutely loved and threw on over his purple tweed, eliciting an excited giggle from Clara, who couldn't wait to see what that lab coat looked like strewn on her bedroom floor. She was fairly tipsy by this point and as she opened her present, she was fumbling for a couple of moments with the wrapping paper. She could hear the Doctor laughing and she rolled her eyes at him as she eventually found her way into the present. It was a framed photo of all six team members, taken that first night that she had joined. Clara smiled at it graciously and could feel eyes on her.

"You're one of the family Clara," the Doctor insisted and Clara blushed, resisting the urge to hug all of them. She felt content, completely at ease in her new surroundings and it was a nice feeling.

The party broke up shortly after and Clara and the Doctor were the last to leave, curled up on the sofa, drinking more wine and giggling to each other. Eventually, Clara looked up into his big, sad eyes and knew that it was time to make her move. Do or die.

"Shall we relocate?" she murmured and his eyebrows furrowed slightly, as his drunken brain tried to calculate what she was saying. "Doctor, shall we go to…my room?"

He sat up suddenly, his eyes widening and he straightened his bow tie furiously. "Oh! Oh! Yes! The bedroom!" he nodded frantically. "Of course Clara, the bedroom. I actually um, have something for you, can I grab it…from my room?"

Clara for some reason thought that this was the most hysterical thing that she had ever heard and burst into an unprecedented fit of giggles, signalling the Doctor to go and get his present whilst she recovered. When she was able to, she stood and half-tumbled into her bedroom, her dress flowing behind her as she kicked off her heels and collapsed onto her bed, enjoying the soft feel of the duvet as she crashed. A few moments later, there was a clumsy, tentative knocking on her door and she whistled to bid him enter.

The Doctor's entrance was even less sure-footed than Clara's, if that was even possible. He wobbled and Clara was sure that he would hit the ground before he reached her bed, but he managed it somehow, flopping onto her bed beside her, grinning like the idiot that he was. They were scarily close now, her hands acting of their own accord as they ran teasingly up and down his thighs, his breath hot on her throat as he leant in.

"Present?" Clara asked softly and he plucked something from his pockets. He sloppily handed it to her and she opened up the box to reveal a small, ruby necklace that the Doctor had bought for her. She giggled and gasped as he removed it clumsily from the box and slipped it around her neck, leaning in to kiss it as he slipped the jewellery around it, Clara letting out a small noise as he did so. "I have a little something for you too," she whispered.

"Oh?" the Doctor gave her a drunken smirk and she felt herself aching for him. "What is it?"

Clara rolled over and fumbled with her bedside table drawer to pull out a jet black bow tie that she'd found in London. "New bow tie!" she giggled, throwing it at him teasingly and he caught it, laughing to himself. "Though, if I'm honest," Clara purred. "There's something else I'd rather be seeing you in."

"Oh?" the Doctor quizzed as they moved ever closer, so she was almost on his lap.

"Oh," she responded, and then her lips were furiously on his.


	9. Chapter 9: The Silence

***Hey guys, apologies for the later update, but I AM FREEEE! I've just finished my final exam which means I have an incredible summer of Whouffle to look forward to. I have half a dozen feature lengths to hit you with between now and the end of December, plus roughly a million prompts! Life is good! Anyway, here's Chapter 9, some action and some super adorable Whouffle. I hope you like! TPD***

* * *

"So you're fucking the Doctor," Jake asked nonchalantly.

"Yes, I'm fucking the Doctor," Clara replied with a sigh.

"For how long now? One week? Two weeks?"

"Since our birthday. So ten days."

"Ah." Jake paused. "What do you make of him?"

"He's a bloody good fuck," Clara grinned a very Jake-like grin.

"And?"

"And what?" Clara's voice was warning. "He's a sweet, nice guy and he's a bloody good fuck, does there have to be anything more to it? Can't that be enough?"

"If you say so," Jake rolled his eyes. "How long until we crash into Trenzalore?"

"Um, by my calculations, a little over twenty minutes," Clara mused. "We should probably think about escaping."

"Probably," Jake agreed. "I've got your boyfriend working on it."

"I'll break your arm if you call him that again."

"Noted."

They were on a spaceship, a rocket bound for the planet Trenzalore. Neither of them was quite sure how they had ended up chained up back-to-back in cells with power binding abilities to keep them trapped and walls that sent electric currents through them if they touched them, trapped on a spaceship that was on collision course with a planet, carrying enough fuel to wipe out all the life on the planet, but then it was that sort of day. Clara had woken up, brushed her teeth, dressed and then she and Jake had gone to investigate reports of terrorist attack in Basildon, had been ambushed and dragged into these cells. The leader of the terrorist cell that had grabbed them, Madam Kovarian, said that they'd been hired to kill them in the most elaborate way possible, making it look like a terrorist attack and a suicide bombing. When Clara had fiercely asked her about the millions of innocent lives that would be extinguished when they crashed into Trenzalore, Kovarian had shrugged.

"They're level two," she'd explained. "Barely above farmers. They're barely worth keeping alive." To say that Clara's blood had boiled would be an understatement.

"Okay," Jake muttered as he fumbled around inside his dark jacket. "So the Doctor has locked onto our position, he's hacking the servers. Good news and bad news." Clara tried to look at him but couldn't so he ploughed on regardless. "The bad news is that they're on manual pilot, steering it themselves, so the Doctor can't hack the ship's flight path. The good news is that he's disabled teleport systems, so Kovarian is actually going to have commit suicide if she wants to kill us. More bad news, he's reporting that the ship has escape pods, again manual so he can't hack them. Oh and more good news, we'll be free from the cell any moment. Can you reach your sonic to get us out the chains, mine's wedged and I can't reach it?"

Clara shifted slightly and managed to grapple a hand onto her screwdriver, removing it and cheering sarcastically as the shielding around her dissipated and she quickly freed them from the chains with the sonic. She twirled it around and slipped it back into her pocket. Guards were converging, five of them pouring in the entrances. Clara almost snorted in derision. Jake did. Jake let her take the first, a power shot to the stomach and the guard was down instantly, then he hammered off four shots quicker than Clara could blink, each one finding its target and sending them sprawling, briefly moaning before slipping into unconsciousness. Jake nodded appreciatively, then he bit his lip and frantically toyed with his watch for a moment.

"Ah good, the Doctor sent me schematics of the ship," he grinned. "Right, we need to turn left out that door and then keep going until we hit the command bridge. Also, I'm picking up more information about Kovarian. She's a member of The Silence, which according to the Doctor and my own memory if the blasted thing serves me correctly, is a galaxy wide group of assassins with the slogan: 'Silence Will Fall' because once you send them a target, they are permanently silenced. So, if we can find out who hired the Silence, we'll have the next person whose arse we can kick. Did the Doctor send you anything useful?"

"A picture he drew of me and him holding hands with the caption: best girlfriend ever." Clara hung her head and glared furiously at Jake, who'd exploded into giggles. "Not a word."

"I'm trying not to laugh, I swear," he promised, in between fits of rib-tickling splutters.

"I will kill you Jake Hunt."

They made their way out of the penitentiary, towards where Jake informed her that the command bridge. If they could reach the command bridge, then they could seize control of the ship, stop Kovarian escaping and save not only their own lives but the millions of people on the planet below. To Clara, this seemed relatively simple; she imagined that for Jake, it would appear even easier. The corridor was wide enough for them to stand two abreast and they fired energy at anyone who stepped into their way, Clara occasionally doing a 180 to cover their backs as people popped out of side rooms to fire their guns at them.

"You're slipping," Jake warned as a bullet ricocheted off his shoulder and he cursed in pain. Clara would have flipped him off if she wasn't using both hands to keep the onslaught of guards who kept popping up behind them at bay. Clara realised that Jake had whirled around to join her and that they must have reached the bridge. There was a swirl of extra energy coming from beside her and it took less than a few seconds before they were clear.

Jake brushed down his jacket where the bullet had ripped a hole in it and shot Clara an irritated look as they turned back and took a deep breath before kicking open the doors to the bridge. A volley of bullets were already heading their way and Clara dived for any sort of nearby cover, taking three bullets down her left side as she found cover and hurled balls of energy back at the guards. Jake had taken about a dozen bullets to the chest, but was ploughing on through, disabling half a dozen guards before Clara had got her first barrage off. Clara leapt from cover to join him, twisting and moving rapidly, snapping bones and guns and letting off the occasional energy blast to disable a running opponent. It must have taken them fifteen seconds to clear the room, leaving just a couple of frantically typing workers and Madam Kovarian left standing. To say that she was unimpressed as Jake grunted, seemingly noticing the shreds that the bullets had made of his suit and the welts they had left on his skin would be an understatement.

"Turn the ship around Kovarian," he warned her in a playful manner that was hiding his true fury. "Or I can snap your neck and then I'm pretty sure your lackeys will do it for me. Face it, there's no escape, the only scenario where you get away with your life intact is if you do everything I say when I say it."

"I don't think so!" Kovarian hissed, slamming a button on the console and laughing wickedly as absolutely nothing happened. Her laughing died in her throat, as Clara crossed her arms and shared an unimpressed look with a fairly smug Jake. "What happened to the teleports?"

"Aha!" a voice came over the intercom and then a giant picture of the Doctor appeared behind Kovarian, who jumped at the sound and sight of him. "That would be me, I'm afraid. Hello!" The Doctor waved and Clara couldn't help but find it adorable. "Right then, oh hello Clara!" She went bright pink. "I see you two escaped, good, good, you might want to turn the ship around soon though troops, only six minutes or so until a lot of people go boom."

"Well aware of the timing, thank you Doctor," Jake replied dismissively. "Clara, get over to those consoles, I want us changing course. Kovarian, give the order or die very painfully. Your call." Clara moved, but kept her eyes locked firmly on Kovarian, who was staring angrily before eventually, after a few, agonising seconds, she nodded to her men and they started frantically typing. Clara breathed a small sigh of relief and Jake's face didn't shift in the slightest. Kovarian, who had realised the dire reality of her situation was desperately looking around for an escape route, but as Clara blinked, Jake was already moving and Kovarian barely had time to inhale before her legs were being swept out from under her and Jake's arm was around her neck.

"Don't kill her!" Clara snapped before she could stop herself. Jake shot her a pointed look.

"The things I do for you, Clara Oswald," he chuckled and then he knocked Kovarian unconscious.

* * *

They'd taken the ship back where it came from, some intergalactic parking garage of sorts, and then they had got the TARDIS to drop them back home. Jake was in a foul mood, Clara could sense it. Whilst he very rarely changed his demeanour, she could usually tell his moods purely from the aura that he gave off in her presence. He spent a good hour with Kovarian, completely alone and Clara wouldn't be able to get the sounds of her screams out of her ears for a while. When Jake returned from the holding cells, he was covered in blood and announced that he was going to shower. Clara felt physically sick. Rory joined her in the base room a few minutes later and promised her that Jake hadn't done any lasting damage to Kovarian and that she was in the more permanent cells, where she'd never see the light of day.

"You know," Rory mused as Clara had a mug of tea to calm her nerves. "I think you're good for him." Clara shot him a disbelieving stare. "I mean it," Rory insisted. "Before you came along, I think he would have killed Kovarian once he'd got what he needed. I mean, look at what he did to the Great Intelligence. You're having an effect on him, whether either of you realise it or not." Clara carefully pondered Rory's words as Jake joined them in the base room. River and Amy were training and the Doctor was in his lab.

"Extract anything useful?" Clara asked bitterly. Jake shot her a look as he towelled his hair and Clara tried to ignore his rippling muscles and tight top.

"It's not always about what you extract," he said cryptically. "But what you can deduce."

"And what did you…deduce?" Clara spat. "Besides the size of your own ego?" Rory snorted.

"I deduced," Jake said dramatically, and Clara wanted to punch him. "That this was a distraction." Clara crossed her arms, her body language demanding an explanation. "Think about it, as far as assassination attempts go, it was clumsy at best. It wasn't meant to succeed. It was meant to get our attention. It might have been a test, a preliminary testing of our abilities, how long it took us to get free, our fighting style, etc. I checked the cams in that ship, they were being outsourced to an external source, completely untraceable. Someone hired the Silence and that same someone was keeping an eye on us. They wanted to get us looking for them."

"Why?" Rory quizzed and Clara frowned.

"They want us focused on them," she relayed her thoughts aloud. "They want all of our attention, like a giant flame, attracting moths. And if we're focused on hunting down whoever arranged this spectacle, then their partner or partners, can get on unhindered. We will be missing something big, something that we shouldn't be missing. So who or what should we be monitoring closely at the moment?"

"Don't say it," Jake said tiredly without even glancing at Clara.

"Oh come on Jake!" she snapped, glaring at him. "You don't think that it's one fucking hell of a coincidence? Harold Saxon gets into power based on an assassination that we couldn't prevent, which by the way, should have been impossible. We know he's not averse to using murderers to get what he wants when it comes to politics. Then, as soon as he gets in, when we should be monitoring him, something magically pops up to distract our attention. The man terrifies me, because he knows how powerful we are and he sat there, with those dead eyes and he acted like we were nothing. How can you be so calm about this?"

"You're completely and utterly right," Jake responded placidly. "There is a lot of very compelling evidence that Harold Saxon is up to his eyeballs in this. But the man got inside your head. And I don't like it. Think about it Clara, you're jumping on the Saxon bandwagon, thinking that he must be responsible. Now I've faced clever opponents before Clara and they never reveal themselves too early. And I'm not buying it. Saxon's involved but I don't think for a second that he's our main threat here. He's a decoy and the fact that he's got you so deeply believing the decoy is what worries me the most. We're taking this from entirely the wrong angle. Speculating about who may or may not be responsible on one tiny little corner of one planet in one small solar system of this galaxy is going to get us fucking nowhere. We have to handle this properly. If this is a trap, then I say we spring it."

"You mean we do what they want us to do? We find who hired the Silence?" Clara asked incredulously and Jake nodded with a small smile. "But that's playing right into their hands!"

"Yep," Jake agreed. "They'll never see it coming. So, which of you wants to help me take on an order of very deadly assassins that have already been hired to kill us once?"

Rory and Clara exchanged a look, having a silent argument over which of them was going to say something, Jake grinning expectantly at them, almost challenging one of them to join him. Rory's face made it very clear where he sat on the issue. Clara sighed and bit her lip, causing all of Jake's attention to focus onto her. There was that same fire behind his eyes. He'd been fucked around and he was not impressed and he was going to burn down the lives of the people who'd been playing games with him. At least if Clara went, then she could minimize the collateral damage.

"Fine," she groaned. "Count me in."

* * *

Clara was snuggled up beside the Doctor, her head resting on his shoulder blade. He had a lock of her chocolate hair in his hand and he was twirling it playfully, drinking in the scents and sounds and sights of Clara, who couldn't help but feel his chest, press a hand to it and examine every single contour of it. She opened her eyes slightly to look up at him, his emerald orbs flitting to meet her deep soulful eyes. He could read her like a book, she decided, as he frowned slightly, picking up on her unease.

"What's on your mind?" he murmured, sitting up slightly and pulling with him, so that her she was still draped across him, but they could have a proper conversation. If she was honest, Clara didn't want a proper conversation. She wanted to touch every inch of his face, cup his cheekbones, kiss his stupid chin, touch the areas where his eyebrows should have been. She settled for running a hand through his floppy hair and kissing his lips softly. His face was harder than hers, more scratchy, but she liked that about him. The Doctor was not what you would call rugged, so it made her feel good to be able to imagine him having more rustic features. She knew it was slightly shallow, but she didn't care.

"Nothing," she lied, curling herself into him. She liked the way that their bodies fit together. At first it had been awkward, as everything with the Doctor was awkward. The positioning, the movements, and Jesus Christ the flailing. But once he had settled down, they had found themselves connecting and that connection felt physical, rather than just something between their personalities. The way that their legs slotted into place, the way that her head was at the right height to rest against his neck, the way that his arms were of an exact length to wrap around her slender body. It all felt so perfect, like a jigsaw that had been properly fitted together. Clara liked order and control. Maybe that was why this whole business with the Silence bothered her so much. She didn't see why they couldn't just storm Downing Street and lock up Saxon. Jake's approach was going to get them killed rather than get them answers. She could feel the Doctor's eyes on her, so she nuzzled his neck, trying hard to ignore the questions that he was asking her, even if he didn't vocalise them.

She nipped at his shoulder blades, her teeth sinking gently in and she ground the skin softly between her teeth, not stopping until she heard him make a noise and when he did, she leaned in softly to kiss his neck. She was waiting for him to relent, but he didn't and when she moved to lick his earlobe, she could still see that he was looking at her, not going to give her the satisfaction of giving in until she had shared.

"Please?" she begged in a voice that made him completely subservient to her. He visibly cringed but he nodded and tried to settle, as she nestled herself back into position beside him, satisfied that he had dropped the topic. The moments that she shared with the Doctor were supposed to be free of the rest of her hectic life, she didn't want to think about Jake or River or Amy or any of it. She just wanted to enjoy the feel of his warm skin pressed against hers, the hairs on his arms and legs bristling against her, his breath hot against her exposed ears as he gently tucked her hair behind them. It gave her a release, a way to press everything out of her mind and focus only on the there and then, when his body and hers were intertwined.

She hadn't been lying to Jake, the Doctor was a bloody good fuck. He knew how to turn Clara on in ways that she'd never been turned on before and it felt oh so good. And lying there afterwards, just made her realise how he had the capacity both to be extremely violent but also tender in equal measure. Not that it was the tender part that surprised her, more the violent part. She hadn't realised that the Doctor had a dark side, so wrapped up was she in the bubbly, eccentric exterior. But when they had sex, it brought out something in him that made Clara shudder with pleasure. She didn't know what it was, but it was so very different. It was like he was a completely different man, as if he could finally release all of his pent up energy and torment.

That was when she saw the Doctor for who he really was. The signs had always been there, but she'd ignored them. Ever since Jake had told her about Gallifrey, she had tried to see the effect that it had had on the Doctor. It was only when they had sex that she could see it, the fury and the anguish that he couldn't hold back any longer. It created something that Clara couldn't help but go wet at.

"Clara?" the Doctor murmured and she smiled up at him. "I really care about you, you know that right?"

"Of course I do Doctor," she replied, equally quietly. "Of course I do."


	10. Chapter 10: What We Leave Behind

***Hey guys! Another day, another chapter and I'm hoping to start knocking off some prompts soon, I'm currently reading :P Anyways, in this chapter, there are some major plot developments, a terrifying new enemy and plenty of Whouffle cuteness :D I hope you enjoy and as ever, thank you so much to Chantelle and everyone who has read, followed, favourited and reviewed! Please please let me know your thoughts! TPD***

* * *

The Silence were almost impossible to pin down. They were an organisation that were illusive, with very few centralised figures and those central figures were notoriously difficult to identify, let alone locating them when they had been identified. The entire thing was a minefield of red herrings, traps and tricks. The Silence were nothing short of a ghost. It took the Doctor and Jake less than twenty minutes to track down their leaders. Clara watched them working with a kind of stunned bliss. It was like watching magic as they typed frantically, occasionally muttering something to the other person and swapping positions as they flipped files towards each other.

"Got it," Jake said eventually, as they swirled their chairs round in tandem, identical smirks on their faces as they looked at Clara. "Have we impressed you yet?"

"No," Clara lied. "Not even slightly. So, the Silence. Where are they? I take it we're paying them a visit to find out who ordered them to kill us?"

"That's exactly what we're doing!" the Doctor replied. Jake and Clara shot him a confused look and he shrugged. "I'm as interested as the pair of you. Jake?" Jake shook his head. "Why not?" the Doctor protested, as Jake shook his head.

"I need you here," Jake informed him, clasping a hand on his shoulder. He then leaned in and whispered something that Clara couldn't hear. The Doctor glared at Jake furiously, opening his mouth to protest, but as Jake indicated towards Clara, he grumbled and hmphed and Jake clasped his hands together cheerily. "Well that's settled then, off we go."

"What did you say to him?" Clara hissed as Jake guided her towards the TARDIS. Jake shrugged as if it was irrelevant and flashed her a toothy smile, so she elbowed him in the ribs, fixing him with a look that would melt off his face if he wasn't careful. "I'm serious."

"If you must know," Jake sighed, rolling his eyes. "I pointed out to him that the only reason he wanted to go gallivanting off after the Silence was because he thought that it would impress you, at which point I indicated that seeing him fight, whilst admittedly impressive, would be slightly embarrassing when I grossly outperformed him and cause you to question your choice in mate," Jake explained in a voice that made Clara want to punch him.

"Men!" she cried exasperatedly as they stepped into the TARDIS and took off. Jake was about to protest his innocence when they landed in a black corridor, significantly colder than where they had taken off from. "So this is the Silence's base," she shuddered, as they strolled down the corridor, dimly lit by occasional lamps, hovering indirectly above them, the jet black tiled walls about as uncomforting as it was possible to be. There was a door ahead of them and there was a horrible clicking noise that got louder the closer that they got to the door. Clara looked around worriedly.

"Don't panic," Jake whispered to her. "But we're not alone."

He was right, of course. Clara could see them now, slinking out of the shadows. Creatures, taller than her and Jake, with bulbous heads, skin covering their noses and mouths, beady eyes in hollowed, sunken holes in their faces. The clicking continued and their extraordinarily long, four fingered hands, reached towards Jake and Clara, and as they got closer, she could see them cracking with electricity. Jake was already moving, Clara in pursuit, and as they reached the door, Jake and Clara exchanged a look. They'd run this scenario enough times. One of them went through the door and cleared out the next room, the other stayed and dealt with the eighteen monsters getting gradually closer, menacingly pointing their crackling hands. The eighteen or the unknown? Clara indicated with her head for Jake to go through the door. He didn't argue, he slipped past through and Clara cricked her neck and cracked her knuckles.

"Last chance to not try and kill me?" she tried. None of them slowed. "Fair enough." She spread her hands wide, energy of her own surging as she blasted two streams of power, hitting the two closest Silents. At least if they were members of the Silence, that's what she was calling them. It took over a second for their screams to become audible and then they roared in pain, staggering back.

No killing, Clara told herself. She needed to judge how much power was enough to wound and stun them. The two were barely standing, but that was still not good. She needed to move fast, as they were firing back, electricity shooting in Clara's direction from all sides. She dived forwards, right into the heart of the creatures, landing on the balls of her toes, elbows and fists flying like daggers, looking for weak spots, jaws, kneecaps. But their flesh was almost elastic and none of her slams did any damage, so she rolled again, energy flying from her hands and colliding with anything close enough.

This was not good. She rolled to her feet and backed off. Five of them were weakened, the others completely fine and she was already running out of ideas. She looked around her for inspiration, the tiled walls giving her no answers. Wait. Tiles. She grinned to herself and made for the wall, strength flooding to her arms as she wrenched a tile off of the wall, flooding all of the energy from her arm into the tile itself until the strange, metallic substance was glowing. She hurled it as hard as she could, and it whirled around, bouncing off Silents, their screams filling the air as they were either slashed up by its corners or battered by its blunt sides. It took five of them to the ground, and Clara focused her energy on the weaker five still stood, short, sharp bursts knocking them to the ground. Still eight left and that move had been a gamble, Clara was already feeling the strain.

Then she took a blow, a shot of electricity that reduced her to her knees. She refused to let out a moan of pain, but she really wanted to. Rule 1, don't stop, even for an instant. She turned the collapse into another roll, giving her elbows as much energy as she dared as she slammed upwards, prancing, her limbs sharply driving right into the throats of the two closest Silents, their hisses music to her ears.

"Still a chance to back down?" she offered the six still standing, the hisses and groans of the monstrosities she had taken down around her. "No?" she tried not to sound too desperate. "Well, your loss." She moved fast as more bolts came shooting her way, but she knew that their energy, like hers, couldn't be unlimited. She got in close enough to unleash an energy ball that took the one she hit off its feet. Then one of them got a hand on Clara. That hurt like nothing she'd ever felt before. It reminded her of the electrical grenade that the Doctor had incapacitated her with, only about fifteen times worse and this time she couldn't prevent herself screaming. She lashed out on instinct, her empowered fist connecting with the Silent's side. It roared and she hit it again so that it went down. She staggered back, desperate for a moment to catch her breath. Pain wasn't proportional to energy, she reminded herself. And she was in all kinds of pain.

"Last…warning…" she gasped, as they kept coming and she just wanted it to be over. Her whole body stung, like she'd been burned alive. "You know what?" she growled through gritted teeth. "Fuck this." She fired off four blasts, two seconds each, long enough to send each target she hit falling back. But she'd miscalculated. It was rash, too rash and she could feel herself losing her balance, falling to her knees and her last shot hadn't been strong enough. One Silent was still standing, looming over her, its voice sounding almost like a laugh as Clara closed her eyes and prepared for the end. She was so tired, almost ready for it. She didn't have anything left to give. And then, the creature's head exploded.

"You alright Oswald?" Jake asked with a grunt, picking her off her knees and wrapping an arm around her to support her. She nodded, but the action of nodding was enough to send ripples through her neck, ripples that made her want to throw up. "Hey, stay with me Clara!" Jake snapped, his voice urgent, full of worry. "Clara!" She looked at him so that he could see there was still life in her eyes. "I got us a name. The man who hired the Silence was called the Master."

* * *

The Doctor fussed. Clara had known that he would, but he spent the next week or so, whilst she was lying in bed recovering, fussing over her. Rory kept trying to shoo him away to do work or whatever it was that the Doctor did, but he'd constantly sneak back into the medical wing to check on his Clara. He'd started referring to her as that, once or twice, by accident. She wasn't sure how she felt about it, but then she wasn't sure how she felt about anything, her brain felt like mush. Jake hadn't been to see her since he'd dropped her in Rory's care, all sweet and caring for once. It was odd, to see Jake's mask completely fall and for him to be genuine with her, even if it was only because he was worried that she might die. She didn't, of course, and she felt a lot better after a few days of bed rest and no solid food, but the Doctor was furious. She could see it, every time he came to see her, there was anger practically evaporating off of him and she knew who he was angry at. The words: 'I should have been there' were etched all over his face.

It was a week before Clara was feeling like herself again, but even then, Rory insisted on being a pain and keeping her in bed for another day or two, whilst he monitored her vitals. She wasn't impressed, so she was grateful when, the following day, the Doctor entered the bay with a very mischievous smile on his face. Clara raised a questioning eyebrow, and the Doctor extended a hand to her.

"I have a surprise for you," he informed her and she chewed on her lip, a nervous smile creeping onto her face, as much as she tried to supress it. "Don't worry about Rory, I may have…drugged him." Clara giggled, her jaw dropping and she shook her head as she wrapped her fingers around the Doctor's.

"You didn't," she breathed, her laughter irrepressible. "Doctor, tell me that you didn't!"

"Are you calling me a liar Clara Oswald?" the Doctor purred as she let him pull her to her feet, pulling her softly into his grip and she leaned up to kiss him softly. She felt sparks igniting between them and for a moment she was struck by horrible thoughts and memories of a Silent, but the sparks between them were only in her head and the Doctor didn't seem to notice. The Doctor took her into the next room to show her Rory, passed out on the floor, snoring unattractively and drooling slightly.

"Amy is going to kill you," Clara pointed out as they strolled down the base corridors. "Like seriously, properly going to kill you. So what's this surprise? And do I get to change out of these clothes, I feel like I've been wearing them forever?"

"You'll see the surprise soon enough," the Doctor informed her. "Jake's been hunting for this Master chap, but he's had fuck all luck. It's like the guy doesn't exist. I've been hacking every server I can think of, he's been cracking skulls, but there's nothing. Nada. Zip. He reckons it's an alias, but it seems incredible that it's never been used before. You don't call yourself the Master without a serious ego problem. Anyway, you head to your room and change, I'll wait here. Don't be long."

Clara knew why he wasn't coming with her. They probably had a limited time until Rory woke up and chased after them to get Clara safely back into bed, the worrywart. So they didn't exactly have time for the Doctor to get transfixed by Clara's half-naked body as she was changing and for them to end up having sex. That would be unhelpful. She changed quickly, peeling off the black tights, trousers and shirt, showering and then throwing on a blue dress with white spots, running a brush haphazardly through her hair and splashing on a touch of makeup. Satisfied that she looked adequate, she raced back to the Doctor, who was tapping his foot impatiently as she joined him in the TARDIS.

The hilltop that they had ended up on was eerily familiar, to the point where it only took Clara a few moments to realise where they were. The houses below them were capped with snow, which was still falling around them and she very quickly wished that she'd thought to wear a jacket. But then, she'd managed to spectacularly lose track of time. Spending all of her time either off the planet or underground did that. The Doctor slipped his tweed from his shoulders when he saw how uncomfortable she was, although she refused to shiver and she gratefully accepted the jacket, throwing it over her shoulders and reached up to peck his cheek in thanks.

"This is home," she whispered, turning to look at the Doctor, who was doing his best to look humble. "This is my home. Down there, amongst those houses, my dad, my friends…" She returned to examining the Christmas lights blinking back at her, all ruby red and emerald green, giving the town an eerie sort of glow in the dim light. She could feel tears running down her cheeks, hot and salty but she didn't have any control over them. She didn't feel sad but neither was she exactly overjoyed. "And it's Christmas."

"I thought you might like to see how they're all doing?" the Doctor asked softly, bringing a finger up to stroke her teary cheeks. "I developed this," he chucked a device to her which she caught, staring at like it was a golden jewel. "It'll shroud your appearance; make you look like someone else. It's nearly Christmas time, only a week or so to go now, but everyone's still around."

Clara felt uncertain, but she followed the Doctor's footsteps as he guided her towards the little village that Clara had spent so much of her life, both before and after her move to London. It was so surreal, being back, it almost felt like a dream and as she stepped into the small pub where she had last seen Danny and Tom, catching sight of them playing pool and drinking beer, it was almost as if she had never been away. She sat at a table across the bar, watching them and unable to stop the tears streaming down her face. They glanced at her occasionally, but when they did, their eyes just skirted right over her, like she wasn't even there and it choked her up inside.

"Was this a mistake?" the Doctor asked, fidgeting nervously with his bow tie. Clara reached a hand up to stop him, taking his hand firmly in hers.

"No," she reassured him. "No this wasn't a mistake. I really appreciate what you're giving me here Doctor." She squeezed his hand slightly harder and his face lit up. He looked beautiful when it did, Clara decided in that moment. When he was happy, it gave Clara a warm, funny feeling that swelled in the pit of her stomach and stayed there. "I want to see my dad," she whispered. And the Doctor winced slightly before nodding.

"Gentlemen," Danny said suddenly and loudly and Clara looked in his direction, transfixed, as did the plethora of teachers she recognised around him. "Ladies," Danny continued. "We have made it through another year. Well…most of us. At this, most special time of year, we should all take a moment to appreciate the one that we lost. Ladies, gents, I propose we all raise a glass in toast. To Clara."

"To Clara!" came the chorus and Clara found herself breaking for fresh air, the Doctor hot on her heels. She gulped in a lungful of air desperately, shivering slightly against the cold and when the Doctor stepped out beside her, she buried herself into him. She didn't like this, feeling so dependent on another person, but in that moment, she needed the Doctor, needed a shoulder to cry on. Clara hated the emotions bubbling within her, but she still relished them. They were why she got into this after all. She was doing this to make her mum proud. She sniffed as she pressed her face to the Doctor's chest, the beating of his heart in time with her breathing.

"Thank you," she gasped. "Doctor, thank you so much for this. I…" she shook her head. "I can't express how I feel about this whole thing. It's so…"

"I know," he murmured. "I just figured. I'll never get the chance to see my family again, I didn't want you to go the same way."

They stood there for a moment, a moment of peace in a world that Clara was utterly convinced had gone insane around her. She felt like she had nothing to grip onto, no stabilisation. Except the man she was clinging to like her life depended on it. And she couldn't bring herself to embrace it. Because she would not let herself rely on the Doctor. Clara Oswald was better than that.

"My father," she said abruptly, pulling away from the Doctor and smiling up at him warmly, trying not to let her emotions spool over onto him. "I mean, do you know where he is?"

"I have a fairly good idea," the Doctor replied darkly. "The same place he is most evenings. He's with you."

Sure enough, they found Dave at the graveyard, kneeling by the grave of Clara Oswald. They stood a way back, but Clara had almost stopped breathing when she saw her father. He looked older, so much older, like he'd aged a hundred years since she had left and he was speaking in soft, broken tones, almost as if he believed that Clara could still hear him. She had known that her 'dying' would be hard on him, but she had never imagined how tough it could possibly have been. Guilt rode up within her and she rushed away from the Doctor to vomit, retching into a bush. She knew she'd made the right call, hadn't she? Between Jake's morals, the way Amy treated her and the fact that nothing seemed to make sense, she found herself, for the first time, questioning her decision.

But only for a moment. Because when the Doctor rubbed her back softly, she knew that she was being stupid. What was she doing was right, she was helping people, saving countless lives. Her mother would approve. She knew it. In her heart, she knew. The Doctor helped her to regain her composure and then they left the graveyard, neither of them saying a word as they walked out of the village, back towards their vantage point at the top of the hill. The Doctor hadn't taken his eyes off Clara for an instant as they reached the peak of the hill and she sat amongst the snow, staring glassy-eyed across the village.

"Clara?" he offered, putting a soft hand on her shoulder and she whirled round to face him, quick as a whip.

"Fine," she replied tearily. "Just been emotional. That's all. Doctor…I love that you did this for me. I really do. I don't…I can't…" she trailed off and then his arm was around her and she felt like no more words needed to be exchanged between them.

"We should get back," he murmured eventually, as snowflakes began to settle in their hair and on their shoulders. "Rory is going to kill me."

Clara giggled at that, nodding her agreement and getting to her feet, the Doctor joining her. She turned to look at him and he gave her a weak smile. She stepped in and kissed him, a different kiss to any that had come before. It was so soft, it was almost non-existent, the contact between their lips was so minimal, but the charged emotion behind it made Clara shudder. She looked over what she had left behind and turned back to what she had gained as a result.

"Ready to go?" he asked softly.

"Take me home Chin-Boy."


	11. Chapter 11: Undercover

***Hey troops, I meant to have posted this already, but it slipped my mind while I was working on the latest chapter. I've almost finished writing ED so have no fear on that front! In this chapter, Clara and River go undercover to find out what Saxon and the Master are up to. I hope that you enjoy it! As ever, massive thanks to Chantelle and everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited! Please please keep reviewing, let me know what you think! TPD***

* * *

They had a lead. After two months of searching for 'The Master' and monitoring all of Saxon's work and communications, they finally had something to work with. The Doctor had come thundering into Clara's room at 6am, babbling like a maniac and Clara had tried to calm him down until he eventually managed to get out that they were having a team meeting and that it was urgent.

"We've got something," Jake announced as Clara entered the room, rubbing her eyes gently and running a hand through her bed hair, feeling a lot more self-conscious about her PJs when she saw how stunning River looked in her silk dress. At least Amy and Rory looked like they'd just woken up as well and she doubted that the Doctor or Jake ever slept.

"As you all know, the Doctor and I have been monitoring Harold Saxon," Jake continued. "Twenty minutes ago, Saxon sent a communication off planet. We managed to pick up the signal, but he should not have access to this kind of technology. We traced the signal back to its source, a space station on the outer reaches of the solar system, just beyond Pluto. We tried to decrypt the signal, but we only have managed to decrypt one line of the message. The line was: we have a woman inside the organisation."

"It refers to Torchwood," the Doctor interjected, Jake letting him take over. "At least, we assume it must do. Torchwood, as you should all know, monitors alien activity on Earth and will no doubt be monitoring off-Earth communications as we are. But if Saxon has a woman inside Torchwood, then they're compromised and we cannot rely on them. It looks like we're alone. There was one other word which kept cropping up throughout the message. A word that we're pretty sure means 'Master'."

"So," Jake nodded to the Doctor and the Doctor returned leadership to his friend. "Harold Saxon is in communication with the Master and we suspect that the Master, whoever he is, is on board that ship. We reckon that whoever the Master is, Saxon works for him and that the Master wants us to be focused on him, allowing Saxon to continue his work. So we hit them both simultaneously. The Master and Saxon, at the same time. They will never see it coming. There's no way for them to know that we picked up their signal and Saxon will no doubt have used a secure line. Saxon has been busy. Ever since he got into politics, he's been in charge of building chemical factories for the government. He has expanded this exponentially since he took over as PM, and we suspect it's a front. His factories are not only developing drugs for the NHS and for the secret services, but also the mainstream market. Perfect cover. We're almost certain that he's developing something else, hidden away inside his organisation. So we're going to infiltrate him."

"Infiltrate as in undercover?" Clara clarified. Jake nodded.

"Clara, you and River are going to pose as supervisors, sent by the government to ensure that the running of the main facility in Hemel Hempstead is on task and safety is up to scratch. They had a visit planned but, funny story," Jake smirked at the Doctor. "Both the supervisors won the lottery at the same time. They didn't even enter, it was mental. So, you two ladies will take their place. Get inside the facility and try and keep your cover as long as you can, but don't be afraid to break it in order to check out every inch of that factory, there will be things that they don't want you to see, make sure that you see them." Clara and River nodded.

"What about the Master?" Amy piped up. "You said that we were going to hit Saxon and the Master at the same time? So what're we going to do about this space station?"

"You and I, Amelia," Jake was smiling genuinely now and Clara could see that he was relishing the prospect of what was to come. "Are going to pay the Master a little house call. The station will be impossible to breach using the TARDIS without being noticed so we're going to have to do this the old fashioned way. The Doctor has rerouted a space probe that I sent that way a few months back. We use the TARDIS to get onto the probe, the probe flies right past the station, presumably it will get shot down, but we only need to get close enough to end up in the station's gravitational pull."

"How will you breathe?" Clara asked with a frown and the Doctor's face lit up at this.

"Actually," he put in. "I've been working on these oxygenated bubbles, which expand and should contain enough oxygen for about ten minutes, long enough for Jake and Amy to get to and breach the space station." Clara didn't like the sound of that 'should' and her face must've reflected it, because the Doctor carried on. "Look, it'll work, it's been field tested."

Clara didn't want to contemplate the Doctor testing out whether or not his oxygen field was working or not completely alone in the depths of space, so she swiftly moved on from that particularly chilling image as Jake took a deep breath.

"This ends today," he informed them. "We head off in half an hour. I want everyone fully kitted out and ready to go in that time. Doctor, I want you monitoring coms the entire time and I need you to double check the system. I want all the schematics for that factory at Clara and River's disposal and I want you to run every possible scan you can on that damned space station without alerting it to your presence. Rory, I want the med bay prepped for as soon as we get back, there's no telling how much opposition we'll come up against. Everybody clear?"

There was a chorus of nods and agreements and Clara felt her stomach twisting with nerves. Her first undercover mission and it was a big one. She changed quickly, into an outfit that River suggested, a tight suit and dark trousers, pinning up her hair and even wearing a set of fake glasses so that she looked the part. River looked even more smart and stylish than usual in her suit and Clara couldn't help but be enthralled by how good the older woman looked. They rendezvoused with the others in the main room after twenty eight minutes and Jake was already impatient to leave.

The TARDIS dropped Clara and River just outside the complex. Clara had to admit, it was fairly heavily guarded for a standard chemical complex, but then even if Saxon didn't have something to hide, they were producing things for the military and secret services. Nevertheless, there was a checkpoint with armed guards about a mile from the complex and Clara realised with a jolt that the semi-automatic weapons that they were carrying were not standard guns but power piercing. Clara shot River a worried look and she could tell that River was as concerned as was.

"They have power piercers," she mumbled into her watch to inform the Doctor. "We're just heading through the checkpoint now."

Clara could hear the Doctor's cursing in her ear. Clearly, he and Jake had not anticipated this. What it meant that was that breaking cover was not exactly an option anymore. They could have handled a bunch of guards, but now that the guards had firepower capable of actually doing damage, it was a different story. Half a dozen non-power piercing bullets wouldn't leave more than a bruise, but half a dozen power piercing bullets might be enough to kill her if she got one in a major organ or artery.

They hitched a ride in a truck with a couple of guards from the checkpoint to the compound after their IDs were scrupulously examined and eventually confirmed. Once they got to the compound itself, there was liaison waiting for them. She was a short, stout, blonde woman with a big smile and she was carrying a clipboard, with a badge pinned her white coat that said: Doctor Addams. River returned her welcoming stance and Clara did her best to do likewise, trying to look calm when her blood was pumping furiously.

"Let's get you both a lab-coat and then I can show you the facility," Addams said, guiding them inside. Once the mechanical doors slammed shut behind her, Clara couldn't help but feel like a rat caught in a trap. There were guards everywhere, all black steel and menacing and in complete contrast to the white of the walls and the coats worn by the employees who filtered about the place, a perpetual air of nervousness about them that Clara couldn't help but share. River seemed as cool as a cucumber and Clara had to remind herself that River had probably done this a thousand times. There was nothing to worry about.

Clara threw on her lab coat and followed Addams out of the welcoming foyer that was anything but. The tour itself took an age, as they explored the facility, a lot of boring things being said and Clara let River take the lead, answering and asking all the right questions at the right time, Clara only putting into the conversation when she felt it was appropriate. She had the schematics of the building up with her the entire time, making sure to trace their route through it, marking off each section and keeping internal notes in her mind. River and her were in constant contact through a series of nods and eye-rolls, indicating their boredom but also their satisfaction that nothing was untoward. Nothing visible anyway. But the whole place bugged Clara. The people were friendly but there was an undertone of worry in their voices and Clara could see the fear in one or two of their eyes. But there was nothing on the plans that didn't seem 100% legitimate for the first 80% of their trip. Then, as in truth, both Clara and River had suspected, they were being guided down to the below ground levels.

Clara had known that if they were doing something dodgy, it would more than likely be below ground. She was immediately on edge more as they went down a set of metallic steps, two guards stood at the bottom, their fingers curled around the triggers of their weapons. Clara smiled nervously at them as they passed. The plans showed that they should be veering off to the left any time soon, but they went straight past the door and Clara frowned, exchanging a look with River.

"We'll need to see what's behind that door," River said in an authoritative tone, her face as courteous as her voice, Clara staying silent and keeping her face a blank mask. Addams' face fell, just for a moment and then she regained her composure and shook her head at River.

"I'm afraid that's not possible," she replied with a hint of menace in her polite voice. "That area is the cooling tunnels, where we vent a lot of our more volatile substances. Highly dangerous, highly unstable. I showed you the pumping area, it was up to standard?"

"That it was," River agreed, not showing the annoyance that Clara knew she must have been feeling on her face. Clara and River exchanged a look and then River pulled Addams slightly ahead, buying Clara what would only be a matter of seconds to drop back and check the door. They were completely alone and Clara stopped walking and scurried back, removing her sonic from her jacket and using it to bypass the security and gently pull open the door, just enough to peek inside. She got a good look of the contents of the room that Addams and obviously Saxon had been so desperate to hide and then she shut the door, sprinting silently back to River. She had been gone for about half a dozen seconds and when she reached them, she fell back in step before Addams had even realised that she was gone.

The corridors underground were damp and stank and Clara couldn't help but feel increasingly vulnerable as they passed more guards and were shown more experimental rooms. She was more than ready to get out of there; they had what they had come for. But they weren't showing any signs of leaving. The opposite in fact. They were moving deeper and deeper into the bowels of the facility and the people in the rooms they were entering were getting tenser and tenser. There were more off-limits areas, but they were heavily guarded and neither Clara nor River really fancied chancing their arm, especially when Clara had already gotten a good look at at least one of Saxon's experiments. The schematics had told her that there was only way back up to ground level and that it was the way that they had come. That didn't surprise her at all, but they found themselves at the opposite end of the facility, and now they had an escort.

"There are a couple more experiments on the level below us," Addams explained with a smile. The lift journey shouldn't take more than a couple of minutes, but it is quite deep underground. They are working with some very dangerous stuff down there, but it should be quite safe, the depth is merely a precaution. Mr Saxon takes great care that no innocents are harmed by his experiments."

"We're very glad to hear it," Clara replied cheerily as they stepped into the lift. "Aren't you joining us Doctor Addams?" Clara asked, frowning slightly when the Doctor didn't follow them, but instead two guards did.

"Oh no," she giggled and River was looking as uneasy as Clara felt. "I'm afraid I don't have security clearance for those experiments. I'll be waiting for you up here. This is the last leg of the tour, I'll show you to the exit when you're finished." There was something horribly final about the way that she said 'finished' and Clara didn't like this one bit. She could tell that River didn't either. The lift kicked into action and they were both mulling over the same decision. The guards would be easy. But still, this was the lowest level, if they were up to no good, beyond what Clara had already witnessed, then they would be doing it down there. Clara wasn't afraid, she was apprehensive.

The lift was slow, rickety and it reminded Clara of something out of an old horror movie. She could smell sweat, the guards were positively rolling with the stuff and she clocked River untucking her shirt and loosening her tie. They could both sense it, they could both feel it in the air. Clara pocketed her glasses and loosened the cuffs on her shirt. The guard in front of Clara twitched, his fingers curling and uncurling. And then he turned to face her, raising his weapon.

Clara and River moved in tandem, uncoiling like snakes as the guards turned to open fire. Clara slammed her elbow against the gun, knocking the bullets off course and then she dispatched her guard with a swift but powerful uppercut and a kick to the kneecap that made him collapse. She pressed her foot against his throat until he lost consciousness and beside her, she could see that River had already dealt with her assailant.

"Did we do something wrong?" Clara asked, adrenaline pumping and mind racing. "How the hell did they know that we weren't for real?"

"I don't know," River sounded as anxious as Clara felt as she pressed her hand to her watch. "Doctor, can you hear me? Our cover's blown! Doctor! Dammit, he's not answering, we must be too far down," River groaned, as the lift carried on chuntering away. "Maybe they knew that we were coming, Saxon must have eyes and ears everywhere, perhaps he found out what happened to the inspectors we replaced?"

"We need to get back to the surface," Clara said urgently, moving forward to sonic the lift. "If we can't even contact the Doctor, then there's no way in hell of us getting the TARDIS out of here." River nodded her agreement when the lift came to a stop and the doors rolled open. There was a small room ahead of them and Clara exchanged a look with River.

"Well," River mused. "We're down here now, we might as well see what all the fuss is about."

Personally, Clara thought that they should get the lift back to the surface instantly, but then there was that curiosity, eating away at her. The same curiosity that had led her to try and track Jake all those months back, the same curiosity that had nagged at her when she'd opened that door an hour or so earlier. She knew that it was a bad idea, but she couldn't stop herself from stepping out of the lift beside River into the room.

The lift doors shut loudly behind them and River was already making for the door on the other side of the room. It was new, newer than everything else down her felt and computerised. River's sonic was already out, bypassing the door code so that it whooshed open when River soniced it. Clara followed her tentatively and it was only when the red dot appeared on her chest that she realised how big their mistake was. She turned to River, who was pinned to the spot by a dozen red dots on her chest. There were no less than ten snipers on the gantry above and another twenty, probably more, men with machine-guns on the ground, all of their weapons pointed in one direction. Clara wheeled around, sonicing the door but the code flashed red and it refused to budge, the sonic utterly ineffective.

"Deadlocked," River said in a completely flat voice, her arms raised above her head in a surrendering style. "We're going to have to surrender."

Clara bit her lip, pocketed the sonic and turned to face the armed guards, her hands firmly raised above her head and the only hints of defiance were on her face. And then, almost without warning, the snipers fired.


	12. Chapter 12: Hunting the Master

***Hey troops! First off, I'm sorry about yesterday's cliffhanger. Secondly, I'm even more sorry about today's cliffhanger. So, whilst Clara and River go undercover, Jake and Amy invade the Master's ship, hunting the Master and to find out what he's up to. I hope you enjoy! As ever, thanks so much to Chantelle and to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited. Please please keep sending in your thoughts! TPD***

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Jake had to admit, that hiding in the probe until they were close enough to reach the space station had been an utterly dreadful idea. There was barely enough space for him inside the probe, let alone him and Amy. The original landing had been extremely painful, a tangled mess of limbs and yelping, until they had been able to shift themselves into a slightly more comfortable, if a lot more compromising, position.

"You're groping me," Amy pointed out, his knee driving into her groin. He shot her a pointed look, which he doubted she could see, as his face was pressed up against her shoulder blade and there was no light whatsoever inside the probe.

"Yes," he replied tersely. "And you're groping me. I don't know if you noticed Amelia, but it's not as if either of us has a fucking choice." He wriggled slightly and immediately regretted it as her foot went further into his crotch, causing him to gasp in pain. "Amy…"

"I'm not rolling over."

"Oh for fuck's…" Jake rolled his eyes. "Amelia, I'm not trying to be funny…"

"Good, because you're rarely funny!" she countered. "And I'm not letting you put your face in my boobs, no matter how much more comfortable you are, no matter how asexual you are about it and no matter how much you think Rory would be okay with it."

"Well your fucking side then!" Jake snapped. "Your fucking bone is digging into my shitting throat. It's not as if I'm asking for any reason other than the safe release of my mother-shitting windpipe."

Amy shifted slightly, and the pain constricting against Jake's trachea subsided as he buried his face into her armpit. He gasped in relief and he could hear Amy groaning in pain as his knee twitched. He tried to hyperextend his leg, removing it slightly from its current position and Amy moaned happily as the pressure on her released slightly. Then, there was a horrible hissing noise and Jake froze. Amy frowned slightly and tried to see what had happened, but it was pitch black inside the probe and neither of them could see a thing. There was a frantic minute or so as they both lay there in complete and utter silence, neither of them daring to move an inch, the hissing sound still there, subsiding slightly but still prominent and Jake wriggled his toes and then had a sickening feeling that he knew exactly what had happened.

"When I moved," he said very quietly, Amy transfixed on his every word. "My leg, when I tried to stop groping you, it's entirely plausible that I extended my foot too far." Before she could ask him what he meant, because he knew that she was going to, he cut her off. "As in, I moved my foot to an area where there was no space. And I may…or may not, so let's focus on that. It's entirely plausible that I…kicked a hole in the probe. But we should definitely focus on the fact that my knee is no longer against your…you know…lady parts."

"You kicked a what in the fucking probe?" Amy hissed, the Scottish coming out in her voice. "Is your foot blocking the hole?"

"Sort of," Jake tried to glance down but all he could see was armpit and side boob. It was very annoying. "The hissing sound will be the air leaving the probe. My foot is blocking most of it; it's barely a trickle of air we're losing."

Jake tried to remain calm, but it was clear that their situation was somewhat less than ideal. He shifted his foot slightly, trying to cover more of the hole. They had the Doctor's oxygen pockets if they needed them, but he would really rather not need them, they weren't exactly unlimited and he didn't know how close they would get to the space station before they were forced to abandon the probe. He was able to at least see his watch, which informed him of their current location. They were not as close as he'd been hoping that they'd be. The last thing that he wanted to do was ditch the probe this far out, not least because they'd be more conspicuous moving through the dead space.

He could tell that Amy was nervous, but he didn't want to waste his breath reassuring her and she wouldn't want him to. There was nothing he could say as they were both acutely aware of the reality of the situation, which was that there was absolutely nothing that either of them could do in this claustrophobic, hostile atmosphere. There was a calmness set about them, but only because neither of them dared open their mouths to speak or even move an inch, for fear of doing something that would upset the delicate balance of the unstable ecosystem that they had created. Their breaths were shallow and well-timed, although Jake could already tell that his lungs were unhappy with the current situation and it didn't help that in the moments before he'd kicked away their oxygen, his breathing had been laboured anyway, courtesy of Amy's shoulder.

The next five minutes or so felt like an eternity, with their air growing increasingly thin until it was non-existent and they were forced to activate the oxygen pockets that the Doctor had given them. Ten minutes, he'd warned them. Jake was counting the seconds in his head, watching his watch meticulously, as they inched nearer and nearer to their target. It was a slow and agonising race between distance and time and Jake was confident that they'd be okay. But the confident ebbed every second that they drifted, every drop of air that they lost. The Doctor's pockets were good for ten minutes, but who knew how long that would be in reality? The Doctor couldn't have factored in every variable and with every breath that Jake took he was recalculating the maths in his mind, trying to determine exactly how much time they had and if they would be alright. He could feel the gentle rise and fall of Amy's chest against his neck, his own heart thundering near the small of her back. He hadn't even spared a thought for her body aside from how glad he was she'd tied her hair up; otherwise it would currently be choking him.

Then, he heard it, and judging by the way that Amy stopped breathing for a moment, so did she. The sound of a laser bolt firing. They both shifted, just an inch, any distance between them evaporating as they prepared themselves for impact. The laser hit them and the world turned to fire, they were both rolling through the empty space, both desperately willing their lungs to stay even as the air was punched from them. Jake wanted to yell as pain flooded through him and he catapulted through the black, but he forced himself to remain under control, shunting all of his energy to his lungs, the only part of his body that was going to keep him alive.

After a few, brutal moments, they stopped spinning, the debris of the probe littering the dead space around them as they drifted towards the enormous body of metal that was now stupidly close. Jake managed to get his breathing under his control, his body stinging but intact and he glanced to see that Amy was also okay. They didn't have a lot of oxygen left and that manoeuvre would have cost them quite a bit. It was another race, another slow, painful race as the distance between them and the station closed with every second, but at the same time, his lungs growled at him. Any breath could be his last. It occurred to him that if the station didn't have an automatic gravity and oxygen bubble surrounding it, then they were dead even if they made it but he dismissed the thought. He couldn't afford to spend his last moments thinking like that, he needed to prepare for when he made it.

He was so close now, Amy just ahead of him. Then, he went to breathe and there was nothing left. No air. His lungs screamed and he sent all of the energy in his body to his legs and pushed against nothing, desperately propelling himself forwards, letting as much energy leave his body to push him in the opposite direction as he dared and then he shifted, bringing the energy to his hands as he collided with the metal wall of the station and exploded through, punching his way in and collapsing with a gasp of air onto the floor of a corridor. Artificial gravity and oxygen and the station was even self-repairing, metal reaching out to cover the hole he'd blown in their shiny exterior. Nano-bots. Clever.

Jake needed a few seconds to catch his breath, get the energy and oxygen flowing to his extremities. He staggered to his feet, Amy a handful of feet away, doing the same, gulping in lungful after lungful of air and looking wearily at Jake.

"Sorry about your trachea," she apologised.

"Sorry about your lady parts," Jake replied. "Can we never speak of what just went down ever again?"

"I'd like that very much."

They brushed themselves down, and then examined their location. They were somewhere on the ship, but they had no idea where, it was some basic generic corridor. The Doctor had managed to get a scan of the ship's interior, but Jake knew that simply staring at it wouldn't give them a clue as to their location. They needed to find a vantage point, something to give them clarity over their position. Jake pulled Amy along behind him as they raced down the corridor, keeping low and looking for somewhere to gauge their whereabouts. Then, the alarms started sounding. Jake cursed and pulled Amy into an alcove as guards were thundering around them.

"How the hell did they know we were here?" Amy hissed.

"I don't know," Jake growled. "But I don't like this one bit. Maybe they realised the outer hull was breached, but even so, they should not have been able to mobilise this quickly. And look at that weaponry. This smells funny, we need to move, come on."

He stepped out of the alcove, right into the path of a pair of guards. There was a moment of complete stillness and then Jake nutted the closest guard to him, lashing out to kick the other in the chest as Amy flew in with a pile driver of a punch that knocked the first guard clean out as Jake dismantled the second. They shared a look and then dragged the guards into the alcove and Jake frowned at their weapons. Power-piercers. This wasn't going to be fun. Or easy. Jake pinned himself to the wall, pulling out the sonic and waving it around the next corner to see if there was anyone there. Thankfully, there wasn't, so he turned the corner, into another blank, unmarked corridor. The whole place felt like a maze and every turn took them down a new route. The schematics were less than helpful and Jake just hoped that they didn't run into any more guards as they moved towards the centre of the station. He didn't know what they were looking for and that made him uncomfortable.

"Where the hell are we going?" Amy hissed and Jake shrugged. He didn't have an answer and he didn't know if he could lie to Amy. They came to a halt as they heard the movement of guards ahead of them. Jake cursed and looked for somewhere to hide, but there was nowhere, the corridor was too narrow and there was no direction to move in.

Amy was already moving as Jake splayed out his hands, energy rippling to them as he prepared to fire. The guards turned the corner and froze for half a second before pulling up their guns. They never got to pull the trigger, as Amy collided with them, all flailing limbs and savagery. Jake knocked down the ones that she left standing with ferocious energy blasts and then moved in to cover Amy as she threw punches and kicks like wild. That was the thing about Amy. She could cause a lot of damage in a short amount of time, but she always needed someone to cover her back. Jake ducked low as the gunfire from the next corridor came flying towards them and he wrenched Amy back around the L-junction so that they were shielded from the fire. The gunfire stopped and Jake sprang, throwing himself into the line of fire, unleashing a barrage of blasts to knock them all down before they could pull their triggers again.

"You alright?" he asked Amy gruffly and she nodded, following him down the next corridor. "This place is a fucking death trap, we're going to get ourselves shot if we're not careful."

"So what the hell is the plan?" Amy was cradling her left arm slightly and he realised that she'd taken a bullet in the last fight as he'd pulled her around the corner. "Don't, I'm fine."

"You were shot," Jake pointed out and she rolled her eyes. He shook his head. His every instinct was telling him to use the TARDIS and get the hell of the station, there were too many guards and they were too well prepared. This reeked of a trap. That made him angry. And when he got angry, he liked to crack a few skulls. Starting with the Master's.

They moved through the station at a breakneck pace, trying hard to avoid all the gun men if they could. But it was a torrid maze and every corner took them further into it and they were never more than a couple of turns from guns, bullets pelting them from all angles. It felt like every time they doubled back on themselves, taking a different turning, they were just frustrating themselves further, getting increasingly lost and increasingly entrapped, until Jake was ready to blow a hole through the ceiling and climb up into the vent shafts. He swore loudly as Amy took them down a dead-end and they were forced to take down another handful of guards to escape.

"This is ludicrous!" Amy snapped as they turned down another corridor. "It's like somebody designed it to play a game of cat and mouse."

"Maybe they did," Jake murmured. "And the Master is the cheese."

"You think he's not real?" Amy frowned and Jake laughed. "Or you think he's not here?"

"I think," Jake mused. "That somebody wanted us to come here so that they could watch us run about like headless chickens. I've spotted no less than twenty security cameras, but no guards have found us. Not yet. They know exactly where we are, someone is enjoying watching us squirm, safe in the knowledge that whatever we do, we won't be leaving any time soon and we won't be getting the cheese either."

Amy didn't reply to that, she merely frowned as Jake tapped the wall lightly and grunted as he shoulder barged it gently. He grinned at Amy, who had to admit, she was slightly confused by the turn of events. Jake brandished his sonic, fiddling with it for a moment or so and then turning to Amy, smiling brightly at her. She had absolutely no idea what he was going to do, but she was sure that she'd regret asking. Then he slipped his hand around hers and his eyes connected with hers. He was trying to tell her something. His eyes flickered briefly from hers, indicating the wall that he had been tapping. They were going to bring it down. Jake raised his sonic in the air and then shouted: "This mouse has had enough running around your little trap boys!"

He activated the sonic and the security camera exploded in a shower of sparks as Jake and Amy collided with the wall, smashing through it into what appeared to be a human sized ventilation shaft. He dragged her along behind him as he moved through the bowels of the station.

"Knew it," he informed her quickly. "Knew the wall was hollow. Ship this big, they need proper cooling vents, proper oxygenating systems. I've sent a sonic pulse into their system, all of their cameras are out of action but they'll know where we are when they find the hole in the wall, watch our six."

Jake focused on one thing only, finding out where they were. He had the Doctor's schematics of the corridors and the vents side by side and managed to pinpoint their position using that. Now that he had a grasp of where they were positioned, he plotted a route to the command deck.

"Jake!" Amy shouted from behind him and he could see the guards racing out of them out of the corner of his eye. He swirled, his hands already white hot as he unleashed energy. He didn't need to warn Amy, she was already down on one knee, firing short sharp bursts to counteract the continuous streams flying over her head.

Those that weren't sent flying by the initial blasts send an angry swarm of gunfire back at them, but they were already moving, round the next bend and Jake flicked his head up to warn Amy before jumping, clinging to the pipes above them and waiting until the guards were directly below him before dropping amongst them. He was glad to see Amy had followed suit and nobody was able to get a shot off. They were in close quarters now and this was where Jake thrived, elbows and knees faster and harder than the bullets the guns had been firing, slamming into guard after guard as Amy worked alongside him.

In less than a minute, they were toast. Jake cracked his neck and turned to Amy, who was slowly stretching her arm and Jake went over to her, touching it gently as she winced. He didn't want to bandage it up, it would limit Amy's movement. He knew that she was still using it in combat and he respected that, but he was worried she'd do some lasting damage.

"We need to get that bullet out," he warned her and she shook her head.

"Through and through," she replied. "Missed anything vital, hurts like hell that's all."

"Are you compensating?" Jake quizzed.

"If you mean am I flooding more energy there, then yes," Amy admitted. "I don't like it, but it gives me more balance." Jake bit his lip. "You want me to go back and get it cleaned up. Well if you think I'm leaving you behind then you're mental. We got into this together, we're damn well getting out together. Now where the hell are we going?"

Jake shook his head but indicated for Amy to follow him. He had to admit, a surge of pride rushed through him when she stared him down defiantly and he knew that there was a reason that he had brought Amy with him. This was her element, maximum chaos, minimum mercy. Clara wouldn't suit this situation. Clara's biggest weakness, and she saw it as her greatest strength, was that she held back in her fights. She didn't want to kill. Amicable but at times stupid. It was going to get her killed if she wasn't careful. Amy had no such qualms, especially when it was necessary. Jake didn't want to think about the body count he had racked up, on this mission alone. Then again, maybe Clara had a point. If they weren't saving lives, what was the point?

To feel numb. That was Jake's answer anyway. He took a deep breath and turned back to Amy, who had come to a halt a few inches behind him. They were now directly below the command centre. Jake took a deep breath and pointed at the ceiling above them. Amy's eyes glittered with realisation and she gave a delicate nod. Jake knelt and then sprang, pushing up and smashing through the mix of concrete and metal above him, Amy following suit so that they landed in the middle of the command deck, where the Master would no doubt be, waiting for them.

But there was no Master. There was no leader distinguishable at any rate, amongst the sea of black and grey steel that greeted them. There were at least fifty, maybe more, all of them armed to the teeth, their face identically invisible behind their masks. This may have been a mistake. It was definitely a trap. Jake and Amy stood, back to back. And then, chaos ensued.


	13. Chapter 13: Escape Plan

***Hey troops! I meant to get this up earlier but my sister needed a lift so super brother to the rescue as per... Anyway, left you guys on a cheeky couple of cliffhangers, so let's wrap them up. Fair warning, this one's a game-changer. I hope you like it. Thank you so much as ever to the incredible Chantelle and to all my wonderful readers, reviewers, followers and favouriters. Please please review :) TPD***

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"Deadlocked," River said in a completely flat voice, her arms raised above her head in a surrendering style. "We're going to have to surrender."

Clara bit her lip, pocketed the sonic and turned to face the armed guards, her hands firmly raised above her head and the only hints of defiance were on her face. And then, almost without warning, the snipers fired. Almost without warning. The signs were there for anyone who knew anything about snipers. The key was the breathing. Whenever a collective of snipers all simultaneously take a deep breath, you know what follows. Clara dropped the small device that she'd taken out of her pocket when she'd replaced the sonic. As the snipers fired, their line of vision was distracted by the flash-bang grenade that had gone off and Clara and River were already moving, the bullets crashing harmlessly into the door where River and Clara had been stood moments earlier.

The men who hadn't been sent stumbling backwards by the flash-bang were already opening fire, but Clara and River were gone, and they were being picked off one by one. None of the men could see, even those who had shut their eyes were blinded, they were pulling the triggers and hoping for the best, following the signs of the fight around them, yelping for help as Clara and River moved through their ranks, dispatching them one by one and occasionally firing up at the gantry that they were underneath.

It took roughly five seconds for the eyesight of the snipers to regain any sort of clarity and the truth was, if they'd fired blindly below them and risked killing their own men, they may well have gotten lucky. But as it was, in those five seconds, every man on the ground was on the ground. Clara and River went back to back and fired upwards, aiming for the ceiling, not the gantry. It took the snipers a couple of moments to realise what was happening and by then, it was too late, as the gantry supports groaned and creaked as the energy shots barrelled into them and then there was a chorus of running and swearing as ten fully grown men desperately tried to defy the laws of gravity. Clara and River took a step back as the whole thing came collapsing to the ground, a grotesque tangling of limbs and metal, the groans of the men whose bones had just been broken and dislocated audible.

River reached in and grabbed one of the men, pulling him out of the rubble by the scruff of his neck. Clara felt uneasy, as she checked over the men, pulling them from the carnage and checking their pulses. She could see River was judging her for it, but she didn't care. They were paid to do a job. Clara was not going to have them die as a result of it. Once she was satisfied that they were all going to live, she turned back to River, who was making the guard's life uncomfortable, as he refused to tell her the door code.

"Listen," Clara said gently, nodding to River to put the guard down and she reluctantly agreed, looking at Clara oddly. "You seem like a nice enough bloke. So I'm going to be honest with you here, River is not. Why won't you tell her the door code?"

"Ha!" he laughed, and there was fear in his eyes and laugh. "If I tell you the code, then Mr Saxon will kill me. He'll make it nice and slow, nice and painful and I'd rather take a few punches than lose my life for you."

"What makes you think that we won't kill you?" River asked coolly, her eyes bewitching and her smile hard. Clara had to admit, it was a convincing act. She almost believed that River would do it. The man, however, didn't.

"You're the good guys!" he spat and River rolled her eyes at that. "Good guys don't…"

He never finished his sentence, because River snapped his neck, causing Clara to squeak and start yelling in protestation. River turned to the next guard, whose eyes had widened considerably when he saw what River had done. Clara was fairly sure he had a broken leg and tried to stand between River and the guard, but River shot her a look and Clara reluctantly stood aside, glaring furiously at River as she gave the next guard her most winning smile. Clara was fuming, but she couldn't deny that River's tactics yielded sharp results, as the guard stammered the code.

"One…Seven…Zero…Four," he came out with and River rolled her eyes at how pathetic he was and then she marched over to the door, Clara following and keeping a nervous eye on the guards to make sure that none of the ones that were still conscious went for their guns.

"One Seven Zero Four," River murmured. "At least 95% of numerical codes are based on specific dates, do you happen to know anything that happened on April 17th?"

Clara's blood turned cold and she couldn't help but wilt under River's stare. She knew that date like she knew her own name. It was the date that she had met Jake. The most important date in her life. But she couldn't tell River that, what would River think? River was deep in thought, so Clara just shook her head, not trusting herself to speak as River typed in the code and the door slid open. She felt sick to her stomach.

Clara darted after River, through the door before it sealed itself shut behind them. River was already moving with purpose, back towards the lift. Clara scurried along behind her and they got into the lift. They weren't out of dodge yet. They needed to get to ground level to TARDIS out and no doubt, the upper basement levels were being filled with more guards, with a shoot on sight policy inevitable. Clara was anxious, about this whole mess, but what she needed was to focus on the task at hand. Escaping with her life. River was as silent and unmoving as a statue beside her and Clara desperately wanted to clear the air, but there was nothing to be said and she couldn't think of anything constructive to add. Eventually, as Clara activated the lift, it was River who spoke.

"Nice work," she praised, flashing Clara a quick smile. "You're good. I can see why Jake got you into this." Clara didn't know how to respond to that, so she simply smiled back. "They'll no doubt open fire the second that those lift doors open, so be ready." Clara nodded. "Lie down, they'll be firing at chest or head height," River instructed and Clara crouched obediently. "No hesitations, no holding back. You can't always keep them all alive."

Clara sensed that she was being chastised, so ignored the last comment. She didn't appreciate River treating her like a child, especially when she had just saved River's life. She knew what they all thought. They were all expecting her to kill someone and for that to be it, for the floodgates to open. Well it wasn't going to happen. She refused to become like Jake. She refused to abandon her morals so easily. She could have gotten that code off the guard without River killing anyone, Clara knew that she could. And yet, there was a feeling in the pit of her stomach. How many times had Jake or River killing someone saved her skin? More times than she was willing to admit. She may not have killed anyone, but if people weren't dead, she would be. No. She couldn't let herself think that way. Jake didn't have to kill that Silent. River did not have to kill that guard. It made their lives easier, but that didn't make it necessary and it didn't make it right.

The lift dinged and Clara let rip, her hands crackling with energy and she fired shot after shot as bullets whizzed into the empty space above her head. She was moving as quickly as she could on all fours, bounding like a lioness, River beside her following suit. It was a matter of moments between the lift doors opening and Clara landing the first punch, not enough time for the guards to readjust their aim. But still, the corridor was full of them and for every blow Clara landed; two more were coming back at her. And Jake had been right; they fought dirty, pulling at her hair, kicking her in the ovaries, aiming for other sensitive areas. But Clara was stronger, quicker and none of them dared discharge their weapons in close quarters. No matter how many blows she took, her next one hit its target and did a lot more damage than theirs.

As the dust settled, Clara was bleeding, bruised and aching all over. But she and River were the only two people left standing. She took a deep breath and turned to River. They still had to make it across the complex to get back to ground level. Once there, they could TARDIS the hell out of there. As they moved tentatively through the lower levels, River contacted the Doctor and relayed the situation. He had the TARDIS set, as soon as they were in position, he would get them out.

"I don't understand," Clara muttered to River as they moved stealthily through the factory. "Why can't we TARDIS out down here? The TARDIS is going to drop us underground anyway, why do we need to be above ground?"

"The TARDIS can only penetrate below ground to the base because of the pads," River explained. "That's why we can only TARDIS onto that spot; the Doctor designed them, sort of like a homing beacon for the TARDIS satellite. The problem is that the signals become too weak below ground, not to mention Saxon has probably got some sort of TARDIS proofing mechanisms down here, which is why we couldn't contact the Doctor further down."

Clara nodded her understanding. They were moving quickly now and it all seemed just a little too easy, a little too convenient for Clara's liking. This was almost going too well. Sure enough, when they could see the steps, they saw their problem. Rows upon rows of guards, more guns than Clara had ever seen in one place and they were covering just about every angle. Clara and River exchanged a look. This did not look good.

"Men," River snarled. "And guns. Put those two together and you have so many different kinds of deadly and stupid." Clara giggled at that. "Any thoughts?"

"Did the Doctor ever get those damned incapacitation devices working?" Clara asked quietly and River shook her head.

"None big enough to take out more than half a dozen. If we're going to announce ourselves, we'll take out more than six of them. They're obviously waiting for us; they won't be pulled out of position by a ruse. We're going to have to think of something very clever, or we'll get mown down." Clara couldn't help but agree with her.

"Wait," Clara looked at River, a grin forming on her face. River shot her a quizzical look. "Where are we? Like think about, where exactly are we, right now?" River shrugged. "We're in a chemical factory. Saxon is testing chemical weapons down here, there has to be something that we can use!"

River looked like she was about to kiss Clara or at the very least considering it. Clara's face was excited, she felt breathless and they backed away from the stairs, heading to the nearest lab that they could find and studying the experiments going on there. It didn't take them long to find something appropriate, a poisonous nerve agent that would render anyone who breathed it in unconscious for what seemed to be twelve hours, according to the test results. Clara nodded to River, they grabbed a vial and headed back to their vantage point near the steps. River nodded to Clara and she hurled the vial. It shattered, right at the heart of the cluster of troops. They pinned themselves around the corner, waiting a few seconds for the nerve toxin to kick in. When Clara peered around, there were about half a dozen still standing, wearing gas masks. The rest hadn't been able to get to them in time. Six guards. Clara could see River struggling not to laugh. They stepped out, shots fired and guards down in an instant.

Clara breathed a sigh of relief, allowing herself a small moment of victory as they messaged the Doctor to tell him they'd need the TARDIS any second. She didn't doubt there would be more guards on ground level, but if the Doctor was quick, they need not be on ground level for more than an instant and these guards didn't seem to have a great track record when it came to reaction times. They clambered up the metallic steps almost silently, River taking the lead, Clara a step behind her. Sure enough, when they reached the top, they had a welcoming party, but it was a small one, a few moments of light work to dispatch and then they found themselves back in the base, the TARDIS having done its job.

"Clara!" the Doctor shouted and she ran to him, allowing him to hug her and kiss the top of her head. It was a sign of how far they'd come in the last few months that she didn't even consider the fact that she was letting her guard down, or that the others were seeing her let her guard down. "Thank goodness, you're alright. Hang on, Jake needs me to TARDIS him back. They ran into a spot of bother, but nothing that he and Amy couldn't handle."

Clara had questions, hundreds of them, but the Doctor was fiddling with the TARDIS and Rory raised an eyebrow in greeting to them. Clara threw herself down on the sofa as Jake and Amy stormed into the room. To say that Jake looked pissed was an understatement and he looked tired as well as angry, Amy limping slightly behind him. They were both worse for wear, with gashes and bullet holes left, right and centre. Rory was over to Amy in an instant, checking her over softly as Jake headed straight for the bar, poured himself a large glass of whiskey and downed it in one.

"They knew we were coming," he said. He didn't shout, but everyone shut up and turned to him when he said it. The Doctor, Clara noticed, was lingering, right behind her and he sat on the arm of the sofa. Rory and Amy moved to the sofa opposite, Rory fussing over Amy. River was sat between the two. "They fucking knew that we were fucking coming." The glass shattered in Jake's hand.

"When we got there," Amy picked up. "There were guards everywhere. Hundreds of them. We had to fight our way to the command deck and they were waiting for us there too. It was a fucking blood bath, I don't know how we made it out in one piece. We scoured the entire base for the Master, but he wasn't there. He was nowhere to be seen. And we checked the escape pods and teleports. Untouched. He wasn't just not there. He was never there. The whole thing was a set up and we fucking walked into it. When we tried to access the computer, there was nothing to be accessed and all that happened was that it initiated a self-destruct sequence. We had to get out of there."

"We had the same thing," River explained and all eyes were on her now. "When we got there, they absolutely knew that we were coming. They guided us down to the lower levels, then even lower still and they had an ambush waiting for us. They knew what they were doing. They didn't let us see anything incriminating either, except for one door that Clara got half a look at. Jake, does the date April 17th, mean anything to you?"

Clara winced, expecting the inevitable as Jake snapped round to look at Clara and everyone made the connection at the same moment.

"They have a woman in the organisation," Amy said, her voice pure poison. Amy was glaring at Clara, her eyes narrowed to slits and Clara felt that feeling in the pit of her stomach rising up again. River was also looking at her, confusing, suspicion and concern in her eyes. River had come to the same conclusion as Amy, albeit more reluctantly. Rory, at least, had the decency to blatantly avoid staring at Clara. Jake was staring right at her, his face expressionless. The Doctor took a moment to pick on what was happening, and then he realised.

"No!" he protested, his hand going straight to Clara. "No way! Not a chance! There's no way that Clara would do such a thing. They must have found another way, maybe a bug or something! Jake, you can't possibly…"

"Shut up Doctor," Jake said, quietly. The Doctor shut up. Clara ignored the Doctor's protests, Rory's anonymity, Amy's putrid looks and River's indecisive agreement and focused purely on Jake, their eyes locking defiantly. "Clara," he said, firmly but not harshly. "Look me in the eyes and tell me that you didn't join this team to sell us out to Saxon or the Master."

"I didn't," she promised, trying not to sound too pissed off and trying hard to avoid her voice cracking. She was nervous as hell and also more than a little bit furious. "I didn't join this team to sell you out and I didn't tell Saxon or the Master anything. I promise."

Jake stared at her for a long, hard minute and then nodded. Amy looked like she was contemplating stabbing Clara, River and Rory looked very uneasy and the Doctor's hand on her shoulder had become vice-like. Clara breathed a sigh of relief as Jake poured himself another drink and downed it.

"Doctor?" he asked in a weary voice. "Is there any way that Saxon or the Master could have got this info off of us without someone telling him? Could there be something in the system? Could this have been an elaborate ruse to make us think that there's a traitor?"

The Doctor looked as uncertain as everyone felt and Clara felt sorry for him in that moment. He swallowed and glanced down at Clara before returning his gaze to Jake.

"If there is something," he answered eventually. "I'll find it. I promise."

"Good," Jake sighed and nodded. "I'm going to pay Harold Saxon another visit. We know now that he's up to his neck in this, I want him here where I can keep an eye on him. I won't be long, everyone stay put until I get back." He turned back to Clara, almost as an afterthought. "Clara," he said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "River mentioned that you saw something in that factory, something that you weren't supposed to see. What was it?"

Clara frowned slightly. "It's difficult to describe. But I could probably draw it, hang on a moment!"

Clara stood up and crossed the room to the bar, where a pad and paper were lying beside Jake's whiskey. She drew quickly, making sure that the panels looked right, that the balls were the right shape and that the various odd features were spot on. Clara was quite a good artist, when she thought about it and she handed Jake the picture with a small smile. His face was instantly drained of all colour and Clara frowned as he staggered a little.

"Doctor," he breathed. "You need to see this."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow as he crossed the room to look at Clara's crude drawing. As he took it off of Jake, his face changed entirely, and he went even paler than Jake had gone. He was physically shaking, tears streaming down his face. Amy was on her feet and Clara took a step closer to him. He crumpled up the paper into a ball and hurled it, energy flooding to the ball as it caught alight in mid-air and exploded against the far wall, leaving a charred black mark where it had struck. He turned away from everyone, making for his bedroom. As he passed the sofa that was now empty, he kicked it was a ferocity that sent the sofa flying, crashing and splintering against the wall. Clara wheeled around to stare, shocked, at Jake as Amy shouted after him.

"Let him go," Jake said, without a hint of emotion except white hot anger.

"What the hell was that?" Clara breathed. "What the hell did I see in there?"

He fixed her a look that was completely blank and when he spoke, his voice was utterly flat.

"What you saw Clara…was a Dalek."


	14. Chapter 14: Intimate

***Hey guys, another day, another chapter. This one was nowhere near what it was supposed to be and needed a complete rehash before the amazing Chantelle took over, so I owe her so much for this one. It's very smutty, but there's also a big fight scene and I hope that you guys enjoy it. As ever, thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited! Please please review and let me know your thoughts. TPD***

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Clara knew that this was bad. The Daleks had blown up Gallifrey, they had taken everything from the Doctor and that he had wiped them out. What seeing that picture must have done to him…brought back memories that he had hoped to avoid for the rest of his life. Clara didn't even stop to consider the implications for her or the rest of the team, fighting a foe so deadly, all she was thinking about was the Doctor. He had looked utterly broken and devastated and she hated seeing it. She had taken off after him the second that Jake had said the word: Dalek. She knew that he would need her, whether he was willing to admit it or not. Nobody said a word as she raced from the room, they were all still in shock themselves. Well, most of them. One of them was putting on a good show. Clara wasn't as optimistic that there wasn't a traitor as the Doctor was and she couldn't help but wonder which of them that it might be. Still, it did her no good to speculate, so Clara didn't think it over too much, for her own sanity.

She rapped lightly on the door to the Doctor's bedroom, a million and one thoughts swirling through her head. She didn't expect a response, but it still stung slightly when she didn't get one. She tried the door but it was locked and she wasn't going to force her way in. She knocked again, in her distinctive manner. The Doctor would be under no illusion who was stood outside his bedroom.

"Doctor?" she called lightly, trying to transmit as much care as she could through the steel separating them. "Doctor, it's Clara. Can you let me in? Please?"

The 'please' did it. She heard the whirring of the sonic and the door clicked. She waited a couple of seconds and then placed her hand on the door and it opened, allowing Clara to step into the Doctor's room, which was very like hers, only a lot more cluttered. No matter how many times she told him to tidy it, the best he'd do was shove a lot of his junk under his bed and that would be it. It was no surprise, after all she'd seen what his lab was like and she didn't even mind, it was part of his eccentric charm. It was also deep blue, the walls, carpet, bedding, every inch doused in navy. There was a photo of Clara and the Doctor on his dresser, a photo that still tugged at her heartstrings even though she'd been in his room dozens of times since he'd put it there.

The Doctor himself was sat on his bed, staring at his hands, which were between his knees. Clara approached tentatively, clicking the door shut behind her and locking it so that they weren't disturbed. He didn't look up, but he knew she was there, as his demeanour had shifted ever so slightly, inviting her to sit beside him. Clara moved slightly to his side, plonking herself on the bed and edging along it until she was inches from him. She reached out, touching his shoulder lightly with her hand and then she trailed lightly down his arm until she found his hands, feeling him shiver at her touch. He was still looking down, so she looked down at the same place he was, stroking his knuckles gently with her fingers. She tried to take his hand and he released it so that she could. She squeezed it gently and he looked up so that their eyes met as she followed suit. Then he was burying his head in her shoulder, still shaking slightly. She stroked his soft, quiff and he breathed heavily on her neck in response, which he knew was a massive turn on for Clara. Either he was trying to take his mind off of it, or he had genuinely forgotten the effect that he had on her.

When his lips met the soft flesh between her neck and jaw, she had her answer. She knew what this was, of course, he needed her comfort. And right now, she needed his just as much. She moved her head slightly to expose her neck, her grip tightening on his hair. He reached up to remove her hair from its bun and it cascaded down onto her shoulders and his face and she heard him moan softly at it. She threaded her fingers from his hair to his neck, just ticking his nape with her nails. His jacket was annoying her, so she squirmed him out of it, throwing it with a casual ease and then she was stroking his jawline, the grizzly bits of his facial hair, with her thumb, easing his face closer to hers so that there was no real movement required on her part when they kissed. The kiss was soft at first, Clara and the Doctor still trying to hold back; still trying to relax when relaxing was the last thing they felt like doing.

Clara broke the kiss and the awkward tension hung between them, the Doctor's eyes met hers and she could feel him. She could feel his anger, his burning resentment, his anguish and his pain. He wanted to be violent, he wanted to punch and kick and scream. She felt that too, she understood his frustration on a deep level. But they were both being tentative, both afraid to hurt the other, both too petrified of breaking the thing that they valued the most to really push it.

Clara made the first move, broke the intense stalemate that had descended between them. She reached out, precise, measured movements, reaching down to slowly unbutton his shirt and place her hand on his cold chest, the change in temperature sending a shudder rushing through her. His eyes were burning, but his grip was tender as he brushed her hair off of her shoulder and reached down to pull off her top. Clara obediently raised her arms and then he reciprocated as she slid off his shirt, returning her hand to his chest, her breathing heavy.

Clara could sense his frustration and unclipped her bra lightly, flicking it at him. He frowned at her as she moved closer to him, her hand on his zipper. He leaned forwards and his hands were on her trousers. The wriggling managed to detract from the tension slightly, as did the seconds that followed as they slid out of their underwear. But then they were kneeling there, as naked as the day they were and it came back, bigger, hungrier. Clara wanted to fuck him against that backboard until it broke. And the look in his eyes made her so wet she was practically frothing. She splayed her hand against his chest; his hand was on her cheek.

She took a deep breath. They were staring intently at each other, inches apart. Then they were kissing and it felt like a release, Clara let her tongue roam free, the pent up energy instead her threatening to rip her apart as she tried to release it. The Doctor's tongue was fighting back, the two dancing frenetically as her hands found his shoulders and his were wrapped around her, pulling her closer. Clara got lost in the kiss, her loins burning as she felt his hand slide up and down her back and she wanted him inside her so desperately. She pressed her body against his and they toppled, the Doctor gasping as she mounted him.

There was no foreplay, no teasing, because this wasn't a teasing situation. She didn't want to wait, she couldn't wait and neither could he. It felt like everything around her was collapsing, there was only the Doctor and she focused on that. She focused on the feeling in the pit of her stomach and focused on making it shatter her. She rode the Doctor, closing her eyes, imagining that they weren't there, that they were somewhere else, anywhere else.

They were wrestling for control, their hips rattling against each other, trying different angles and each motion made Clara feel better, stronger, more in control. She was chaos, swirling through the vortex, and she needed to fix her location. Her hands were against his shoulders, all the energy in her body flowing like never before, every extremity alight to the point where she felt like she could blast off into space, leaving the planet behind her. She probably could. She moaned softly, the noise seemingly spurring him on because he flipped them and she heard the bed creak and screech under their motion.

He was on top now, it was his turn to lead the way and now Clara felt powerless, her entire world in his hands and it felt good. She felt like she was placing complete trust in him as he took his time, every movement deliberate, keeping Clara at his mercy as she let out inhuman noises at what he was doing to her. She clamped down on his shoulder and he put a hand to her chest lightly, indicating his desire. She refused to do what he wanted, refused to fall back against the bed instead rising up to meet his mid-thrust, throw him off his rhythm. It had become something new now, a desperate tussle for supremacy and Clara loved every moment of it. The Doctor was stroking her breast, each time his nail grazed her erect nipple she let out a gasp and her hands were in his hair, tugging and twisting, as if she could somehow pull his back under her command, like she would a horse.

That feeling in the pit of her stomach was rising and falling in tandem with her, every time she rose up to meet the Doctor, she felt it screaming, to the point where she was sure that that would be it, that she would be gone, but just as she thought she'd reached breaking point, it would be over, they'd reached another trough, before rising back up to the next peak.

If he was close, he wasn't showing it, no traces of strain on his face at all, only blunt pleasure. To see him so turned on, to see him so happy, like he'd finally been able to strip away the torments of his life, made her heart sing and then that singing slipped lower and lower until it had joined with the feeling in her stomach, leaving Clara fit to burst. She pushed up, one almighty thrust and she and the Doctor left the bed, just for a moment.

They were hanging there for what seemed like an eternity, caught in an instant of perpetual pleasure, Clara's entire body sighing simultaneously at the release, as she came and she felt him join her, his warmth filling her. And then they came crashing down, the bed splintered beneath them and they were amongst the plethora of junk that the Doctor had stashed under his bed. Clara found herself laughing, a very playful, child-like giggle that didn't fit the time or place. It was what the Doctor had done to her. He'd taken her out of her own time and space and plonked her down in this one. With him. He rolled off her and they were just lying there, their hands slowly reaching towards each other and meeting in the middle.

"I love you," she whispered, not even realising that it was the first time she'd said it.

"I love you too," he replied and Clara felt completely and utterly content.

* * *

Jake hadn't warned them that he was coming. He hadn't had the time. As soon as Clara had shown him the picture of that Dalek, he knew what had to be done. This had to end. Now. He was going to take down Saxon and once he knew what Saxon knew, he would dismantle the Master's entire operation. Despite Rory's protests that he needed to at least give himself time to recover from his injuries picked up on that damned space station, he hopped straight into the TARDIS. He was tired, so very tired and his entire body was battered, but he didn't need to be at full strength to take care of one stupid fucking human. And in any case, he was running on adrenaline, his body pumping, ready for a fight, assuming Saxon could even give him one. He might let Saxon throw the first punch, it might even be funny. Then, he'd break every bone in his body when he smashed him into the wall.

They had a traitor. There was no denying it. The Doctor could search the system fifty times, he wouldn't find anything. The Master had infiltrated them and Jake didn't know how or who. That worried him and it angered him more. He would find out which of them had sold him out and he would make them pay. The worst thing was, he didn't want to believe it.

Clara had got inside him, he knew it. He hated it. She had gotten under his skin, changed him and convinced him so entirely that she wasn't the traitor that he was looking at River and Amy, people that he had loved and trusted for so long, that this shouldn't even be a question. And yet it was. Because he truly didn't believe Clara would betray him. He wanted to. More than anything. More than anything, he wanted to be able to look at Clara and see the eyes of a traitor staring back at him. But he didn't see that. And it shook him to his core.

So he should have known how this was going to go down. If he'd stopped for even a second to think, he would have realised. But he didn't, because he was so angry, so shaken, that his only goal was vengeance. Vengeance and clarity. And 10 Downing Street was the only place to get either. Hopefully both. The guards recognised him and didn't stand in his way. Maybe it was the white hot fury in his eyes, warning them that if they so much as looked at him funny, he would break them. Or maybe it was the fact that his hands were already glowing white with power, ready to punch Harold Saxon in his fucking arrogant face.

Saxon had been waiting for him. Of course he had. In contrast to Jake's agitated state, Saxon was quite calm, as he sat behind his desk, smiling warmly when Jake kicked his door off of its hinges. Then he stood and moved around his desk with an elegance and grace that was almost poetic. He stood, about half a metre from his foe and loosened his tie, ever so slightly. His grin only infuriated Jake more.

"Mr Hunt!" he greeted, extending his hand for Jake to shake. Jake was thrown. He didn't know what was going on, but Saxon's confidence riled him up and when he took Saxon's hand, expecting to crush it, he was met with fierce resistance and he felt his wrist straining to the point where he thought it might snap off before Saxon finally broke the handshake. Jake didn't stagger back but his hand was in agony.

"Saxon," Jake snarled. "Where's the Master?"

"Oh dear," Saxon laughed, the noise ringing in Jake's ears. "You really are failing to impress me," he sighed, shaking his head. "Haven't you worked it out yet?"

"Worked. Out. What?" Jake could barely breathe. He was shaking.

"The traitor in your organisation?" Saxon raised an eyebrow. "I mean isn't it obvious?"

"You will tell me," Jake said quietly. "Or I will break you."

Saxon spat in his face, and then he laughed again. This was too much for Jake. He threw the first punch in anger, moving impossibly quickly and savouring the moment where it shattered Saxon's jaw. The moment never came. Saxon moved faster and caught the punch as if he were swatting a fly. Jake barely had time to register surprise before he was being flipped and he went through the table with a sickening crunch.

Saxon didn't move. Jake couldn't believe what had just happened as he picked himself up. Saxon should have finished him there and then. But he hadn't. He was just stood there, mockingly, waiting for Jake to make his next move. So Jake moved. He let his hand swell up with power and then unleashed it, blasting Saxon off his feet. At least, that's what should have happened. What did happen was that Saxon raised a hand and the stream of energy dissolved into it. Saxon cricked his neck and then returned fire with Jake's own power, which collided with his chest. Jake was thrown across the room, colliding with the far wall and feeling bones break as he hit it. He didn't know what was worse, the fact that he was losing, the ease with which Saxon was winning or the fact that Saxon was mocking him.

"I was promised a fight," Saxon sighed. "Maybe my informant overestimated you. Bless."

Jake launched himself with the speed of a bullet at Saxon, but he wasn't quick enough. Not even close. Saxon took one step to the side and stuck out a leg casually. Jake went tumbling over it and lost all balance. He managed to use it to grab Saxon and turn him, shifting his weight to press all his strength against Saxon, who crashed into the drinks cabinet against the wall. The minor victory gave Jake a grim pleasure for about half a second, until he realised that Saxon had let him have it. As the glass fell around them, the remnants of a bottle of whiskey spooling out onto the floor, Jake realised that the brown was mixed with red and it took him a moment to realise that the blood was his and that it was coming from a gaping wound in his neck where Saxon had stabbed him with a shard of the broken cabinet. He fell to his knees, gasping for air and feeling dizziness and fatigue wash over him. Saxon stepped forward, a distasteful look on his face. He used Jake's face to wipe the blood off of his hand and sighed happily, as if what had just happened was normal fare.

"Well," he said cheerfully. "This was fun wasn't it?"

Jake didn't respond. He couldn't respond. He was focusing every ounce of strength he had into not bleeding out on the floor.

"Well you're boring when you're dying," Saxon sighed. "Never mind. I'll tell you what. I'm going now, because, well this job has outlived its usefulness. And also because if you survive this, I don't really want to broadcast my address. So, have you worked it out yet, or do I need to spell it out for you?"

"Saxon…"

"SAY MY NAME!" he kicked Jake as he screamed and Jake fell, almost whimpering.

"Master…" Jake whispered. And then Saxon smiled, nodded and promptly left.


	15. Chapter 15: Nesorio

***Hey troops, we're past the midway point in this story now and it's really going to pick up in pace from here. I hope everyone's enjoying it up until now. And this one is going to be a bit of a lighter one, taking a bit of the tension off. I hope you like it. As ever, thanks to Chantelle who did a wonderful job helping me with this one and to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited! Please let me know what you made of it! TPD***

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Jake had been sulking. For a man who Clara had considered to be in a perpetual state of sulking, this was impressive. His defeat at the hands of Harold Saxon, aka the Master, had hit him pretty hard. By the time Rory and Amy had gotten to him, he'd lost a lot of blood and had passed out, and it took him almost a week to recover from it, during which time he had been cranky as anything and once he was out of bed he was making life hell for anyone who got too close to him, leading to Clara and the Doctor spending all of their time that they weren't on missions hiding out in each other's rooms, trying to avoid Jake completely.

Another thing that Jake had done was inform everyone that he would be tracking the Master solo. Clara had to admit that that had stung slightly, but she knew that it would sting the others more. He hadn't told them why he was doing it, but everyone knew why. He didn't trust them. He couldn't trust them. Amy had given up any pretence of civility towards Clara, which suited Clara just fine. She didn't blame Amy one bit, looking at it from Amy's perspective, of course Clara was the traitor. Just like she didn't blame Rory and River, when they made excuses not to train with her, keeping up the pretence that everything was okay, but the distrust was blazing just behind their eyes and whilst it was never hostile, Clara couldn't help but feel like an outsider. And she couldn't help but feel the same way about them too. She wanted to like Amy and River, but she didn't trust them. Not anymore.

The Doctor was in blunt denial. About any of it. Neither of them had mentioned the 'D' word since that night and whenever anyone even so much as looked at each other the wrong way, he was out the room. Clara knew that Amy was trying to convince him that she was the traitor, the same way that she had probably convinced Rory and River, if they had even needed any convincing, but the Doctor kept insisting to anyone who would listen that Saxon must've found another way to pick up all of his information, but Clara doubted that he believed it. She was waiting for the moment when he turned against her too, but it never came. He didn't treat Amy or River any differently, not even a smidge of hesitation and Clara knew that whatever was going on in his head to convince him that none of them were betraying him, it would have to be pretty effective.

She didn't want to say anything, because she knew how badly this whole thing would be affecting him and she knew that even though his exterior was completely identical, and he was still behaving like his usual, charming self, if she pushed him, if she probed even a little bit, then he would shatter and all of his worries and insecurities and anger would unravel. She was too scared of that to even try and ask him any questions on the topic.

She didn't know if she was scared for her or for him. If he had a moment of clarity, if he put the dots together and stopped lying to himself about the situation around him, what would he think? Who would he side with? Amy, River and Rory had all made up their minds and Jake was treating all of them with equal suspicion, but the Doctor? He had taken the complete opposite approach and Clara wondered if he was holding back at all. She found it impossible to believe that he genuinely didn't suspect any of them and if he suspected someone, then he had to act differently towards them. But he wasn't.

Jake on the other hand, at least made no secret of his intentions. Which was why it was a surprise to Clara when she headed into the main base one morning to see Jake stood at the computer, a bright smile on his face when he saw the Doctor and Clara entering. She exchanged a look with the Doctor as Jake clapped his hands together cheerfully.

"Ah good!" he greeted. "There you two are, I was hoping you'd pitch up. There's an inactive volcano on the planet Nesorio, about a hundred miles from a major civilisation. It's been giving off some pretty strange signals, so they sent out a call for our best scientist to go and give them a hand to make sense of what's going on. I told them I'd send my best guy. I thought you'd want an assistant, so Clara can go too."

"I am NOT going to be his assistant!" Clara exploded before she could stop herself.

"Guard then," Jake suggested. "No idea what could be causing those readings."

"I do NOT need a guard!" the Doctor spluttered indignantly, causing Clara to giggle.

"Oh for the love of…" Jake threw his hands up in the air. "Do you two fucking idiots want a romantic weekend away on a sunny beach where you'll have to spend at most an hour placating a bunch of primitives by convincing them that the volcano won't blow up in their faces and then you can chill on the beach, or should I tell them that you're not interested?"

The Doctor and Clara shut up instantly, their faces lighting up as they glanced at each other before nodding frantically, Jake's face amused more than anything else as he shook his head in despair.

An hour later, Clara had a small bag packed with everything she'd need for a couple of days at the beach. It was her first chance to wear a bikini in what seemed like an eternity. Looking at her body in the mirror as she tried on her various swimsuits to see which one she preferred, it scared her how much she had changed over the last year. Gone was any semblance of the puppy fat she'd had before, she was sleek and lean, muscles toned. She'd managed to keep her chubby cheeks and dimples, but other than that, it was like she'd been streamlined and she had to admit that she looked good. But she was also harder. There was a steel in her eyes, the way she carried herself was more aggressive and even her hair seemed just that little bit sharper, sweeping across her forehead and down to her breasts.

"Ready to go?" the Doctor asked from the doorway and Clara swirled, already wearing her favourite red and white polka-dot bikini. She glanced at her almost packed bag and the plethora of swimming costumes lying beside it.

"Two minutes," she replied apologetically and he nodded his appreciation, slipping shut the door. Clara grabbed a deep blue bikini, one that she knew he'd appreciate and threw it into her bag, before pulling on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt on top of her costume and then slipping on some sandals, before following the Doctor to the TARDIS.

Nesorio wasn't quite how she had imagined it, but it was beautiful. They were on a small, grassy hill, which overlooked the beach. The sky was a beautiful mint green, penetrated by a blazing white Sun, giving everything a warm glow. The sea was as green as the sky, the sand an incredible red in complete contrast. There was a small cabin on the beach, a path of navy gravel leading up to it and a cluster of motorbikes parked outside the cabin, which as they got closer, appeared to be quite huge. But it was nothing compared to the volcano that they were in the shadow of.

It was vast, towering over them, like a grotesque looming shadow, threatening everyone and everything in its wake. Clara couldn't help but admire the prominence of nature. Mankind spent centuries, even millennia, trying to become more powerful and yet this force of nature was capable of decimating entire civilisations, it was really a sight to behold.

When they reached the cabin, they were met by the chief geologist on site, who introduced them to the ten man team that was examining the volcano. They were paired up into bedrooms for the cabin and they had informed that the Doctor and Clara were a couple, so they were assigned a relatively simple but comfortable room with a double bed. They'd finished taking readings for the day and the volcano had seemingly calmed, at least for the time being, so they were free to do what they wanted and Clara found it amazing that even having known the Doctor for nigh on six months, he still managed to surprise her.

"What do you mean you can't swim?" she laughed hysterically and he shrugged. "Nobody ever taught you?"

"It's never come up!" he huffed defensively. "You go, have fun, swim, I insist. I know how much you want to show off that bikini body of yours. I'll stay back here and look over the data, it'll be fun and I can get my bearings for this thing."

Clara rolled her eyes. She didn't bother informing the Doctor that he was the only person on Nesorio that she cared about seeing her in her bikini, or that swimming would be about half as fun without him, she merely stripped off teasingly in front of him, hoping to tempt him into changing his mind, before heading off down the beach at a jog, her feet padding softly against the hot red sand. When she reached the water, she threw herself right in and it was the absolutely perfect temperature, cool enough that she immediately felt relaxed, but not too cold that she was shivering.

Clara spent a good twenty minutes relaxing in the sea before heading back, letting her damp, chocolate hair fall over one shoulder, water glistening off of her body as she entered the cabin to the stares of the various scientists inside, men and women. She felt a little self-conscious, so she headed to her room, where she could hear the Doctor muttering agitatedly. She frowned as she entered, and he glanced up when she entered and she could see the panic in his eyes.

"Clara!" he greeted. "I've run over these readings three, no four times. They don't make sense. Not even a little bit of sense. Well no actually, they make a lot of sense, they just can't be right. That's the problem. The volcano, it's…"

"If you say the volcano's erupting I am going to have to kill you."

"Okay, I won't say the volcano is erupting."

There was a long pause between them, the Doctor twiddling his thumbs, looking over the readings and trying to remove at least some of the abject fear from his face. Clara sighed and decided to take the bait.

"The volcano's erupting isn't it?"

"Just a little bit, yes."

Clara processed this information. She had to admit, this didn't sound good. Not even a little bit. Then she heard it, a thunderous noise, so loud that the cabin shook. Her alarm now reflected the Doctor's and she bit her lip as the growling ceased. The volcano was angry.

"When you say erupting…"

"Could be any time between oh say five minutes and a week."

"Five minutes?!"

"Or a week!"

"Doctor!"

"Clara, I feel you're focusing a little too much on the negative here."

She was about to slap him when the volcano roared again, even louder this time and Clara was worried that the entire shack was going to come down on top of them. The Doctor was already moving, grabbing her hand and pulling her along behind him as they made for the beach, the other scientists alongside them.

"The volcano's about to erupt!" the Doctor shouted, but nobody was listening, they'd already taken their bikes and hotfooted it out of there. The Doctor rolled his eyes as Clara ran for the one remaining bike. "Clara, what are you doing?"

"What the hell do you think I'm doing?!" she yelled. "I'm getting us the hell out of here."

"We can just use the TARDIS," the Doctor pointed out, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Clara shook her head, dismounted the bike and stormed over to him. "I'm sensing you're against this plan?"

"What about the city?" Clara demanded and the Doctor bit his lip. "And don't even tell me that the scientists will give them adequate warning. We need to get there as soon as we can, help them if we can. Or would you rather see ten million or so people burning?"

She didn't wait for his answer; she knew what it would be. Even if he disagreed with her, which she highly doubted, he'd never leave her here. So she had already revved up the bike when he climbed on the back, wrapping his arms around her waists as she kicked off the stand and they were off. There was one almighty racket behind them, but Clara didn't dare turn around, for fear of losing control if she took her eyes off of the road even for a second. Jake had taught her how to ride a motorbike of course, but it had been a while and she was storming down the gravel path. She didn't even turn when the volcano erupted behind her, the noise deafening her. The Doctor however, had turned and he was swearing incredibly profusely. She could barely hear him, even though his mouth was inches from her ear and his grip on her had become vice-like.

"You realise?!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "That lava is going to travel at roughly 90mph. We'll need to be going faster."

She ignored him. She was currently going 85, but if she went any faster, she feared one slip would kill them both. She didn't trust herself to control the bike if she went faster, but she knew that she had no choice. Then, a burning rock the size of a car exploded to her left, showering them in sparks. She relied on the Doctor to put out any small flames that had sprouted on her hair and skin, focusing all of her attention onto not dying as she guided the bike down the mountain roads, desperately trying to ignore the Doctor's yelps in her ears. She skidded slightly and picked up speed again, pushing the bike and her balance to its limits. She could hear nothing, feel nothing but heat, and another rock exploded to their right, showering her in ash and rock. She didn't splutter, she merely blinked dirt out of her eyes and leaned forwards, urging on the bike on as she could feel the volcano getting closer to her by the moment.

They were going almost 100mph now and the world was a blur, tears streaming down her filthy cheeks, the Doctor clinging on for dear life, occasionally moving his hands to kill a flame that had picked up. Then, a rock exploded right behind them, missing them by inches. If it had hit them, they were dead. As it was, the bike catapulted into the air, Clara desperately trying to wrestle it under control and then they were landing and the impact sent shockwaves through her entire body as she stabilised the bike.

But then they were clear. The worst of it was over. They were still going at a terrifying pace, hitting 100mph dead and keeping at that pace. But the road levelled off and they had managed to break past most of the ash and rocks, every second taking them further away from the furious stream of lava that was chasing after them.

* * *

"So much for the beach!" Clara laughed and the Doctor chuckled along with her. She had collapsed onto a sofa in the main base room, the Doctor beside her. He was filthy, blackened from head to toe by dirt, ash and burn marks, his tweed horribly singed. Clara imagined she looked fairly similar, only she was almost naked but there were smiles on both of their faces. "We should probably get cleaned up!"

So one long moderately heated bath, that felt practically freezing after the heat of the volcano, later and Clara was wrapped in a robe, lying on her bed with the Doctor beside her. She wasn't sure what finally pushed her to ask the question that had been bothering her for weeks, but maybe it was the elation of them having survived, or the feeling that she could finally ask without getting the answer that she'd been dreading.

"How're you holding up?" she whispered.

"A little singed," he joked. "But I'll live. You?"

"No," she said quietly and he frowned at her. "That's not what I mean. Doctor, how're you holding up? Daleks, traitors, I just… I need to know what's going on in your head."

He visibly clenched up and she knew that she had made a mistake. But she knew that this was something that they couldn't just keep avoiding. Something that she couldn't keep avoiding. He didn't make sense. She rolled over to face him as he probed over his answer.

"I don't want to talk about it Clara," he eventually replied quietly.

"Okay," she spoke softly, rolling closer to him, gently touching his arm and looking into his eyes until he forcefully looked away. Clara bit her lip. "Doctor, you know that you can talk to me, right? I mean, I'm in this thing with you, I'm behind you 100%."

He snorted slightly and it stung. Clara took her hand off his arm and tried to look away from him, meaning that this time it was his turn to chase after her.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled and she allowed him the privilege of at least looking into her eyes as he spoke. "That was stupid and rude. I do value you Clara and I do feel like I can open up to you. But…but it's more complicated than that. I can't talk to you about this."

"Why not?" her voice cracked slightly as she asked, heavy with doubt. She was teetering on the edge of despair but she needed the answer.

"Because there's nothing to talk about," he lied and knew that she wasn't buying it so tried again. "Because I don't know what to say Clara. The Daleks burned my whole world and my whole life. How can I put that into words? How can I ever deal with that? They've ripped everything I have in this world apart and they're doing it again." His tone had got steadily less controlled and she could see the anger and fear in his eyes. She took a deep breath to compose herself.

"Doctor," she started. "I can never understand what you went through. But I'm trying. I'm sat here, trying to help you. You need to let someone in, if not me then Jake because keeping all of this bottled up inside you is going to kill you."

"No," the Doctor disagreed and she saw a flash of something new in his eyes. She shifted closer to him, reaching out to touch his face and he flinched away from her touch. "No Clara, keeping it all bottled up is the only thing keeping me alive. Don't you see, don't you understand?"

She didn't. She wanted to, more than anything, but she couldn't. He was changing his line of argument, his thoughts so quickly that she was struggling to keep up with what he was saying, let alone what he meant.

"Doctor," she gasped. Every time she said his name, his face flickered into the ghost of a smile, just for a moment and it gave her hope. "Listen to me. Whatever it is that you're facing, whatever it is that's troubling you, we can face it together."

"No," he said, almost coldly, like he was trying to push her away. "We can't Clara."

"Why?" she demanded, but her tone was still gentle, still trying to ease it out of him, rather than make it seem like she was doing this for herself. "Why won't you let me in?"

"Because I can't even think about it," he told her, his voice still slightly hostile, but she didn't move away. She carried on looking at him with her soft brown eyes, imploring him to give in to her, begging him to trust her with his burden. She wanted to share his pain.

"Why can't you think about it?" she murmured, taking a deep breath before taking a different line. "What's so terrible that you can't even let the thought in?"

"You! Because of you!" the Doctor yelled and Clara stopped dead in her tracks. "I will continue to not think about this mess for every second for the rest of my life because if I do think about it Clara, if I consider the options, my options, then logically, they only lead me to one possible conclusion." Every word was a dagger to her heart and then he broke it completely. "You're the traitor. You have to be. So, Clara. I choose to believe that there is no traitor. I don't even consider the possibility. I don't think about any of this, I don't let it get inside my head. Because there is no other alternative. If I let myself believe that there is a traitor, even for a second, then I lose the woman I care about most in this world. Again. So I refuse to believe it or even think about it. I keep it all bottled up. If that's okay with you?"

There were no words. She had told herself that it made sense. She had told herself that there was only one person he could suspect, she had tried to stop herself from asking the question that there was no good answer to. But even so, to hear him say it aloud, to hear him admit that he would suspect her, that she would be the one he blamed, to hear him tell her that he was just like Rory and Amy and River, was too much for her. And she could already feel the tears streaming down her cheeks.

And then before she could respond, he was on his feet. And he was gone.


	16. Chapter 16: Chasing A Traitor

***Hey troops! Here we go, we're reaching the back end of the story and things are hotting up. This one is from Jake's perspective and I hope you guys like it, as Jake manages to rule out one member of the team as being the traitor. As ever, super thanks to Chantelle for her help and everyone who has reviewed, read, followed and favourited. I hope you enjoy, let me know what you make of it! TPD***

* * *

The bar was dimly lit, grungy and full of smoke. On any other night, Jake would have been more than happy to sit down, order a drink and flirt with the cute brunette with the blue skin and pointed ears sat across the bar that made an effort to smile at him when he entered. But this wasn't any other night. He hadn't travelled halfway across the galaxy, to a small, obscure space port, in the middle of nowhere, to make small talk, get hammered and have cheap, meaningless sex. Not this night at any rate. It was a shame he'd not be able to come back to this place, the booze looked very strong.

Jake raised his gun in the air and fired loudly, the bullet pinging off the ceiling and he caught it deftly. He normally detested guns, he preferred to use his hands, but they could be useful in certain situations. They added an intimidation factor that he'd otherwise have to gain by killing people, which he wasn't a fan of, regardless of what Clara thought. As the gun went off, the room went silent, the music dying and the three men and two women behind the bar all froze in shock. Jake pulled out his sonic and aimed it squarely at the door.

"Nobody leaves," he said loudly and clearly, ignoring the looks of fear on people's faces. "Until I speak to Terrance Mantulia." He didn't expect anyone to answer. He didn't need them to. The small whimper that filled his ears told him everything that he needed to know and he whirled round to see where it had come from. The bar was dark, but he could see every face clearly and the sheer terror, combined with the horrific sweating, on the face of one man in the corner, told him everything that he needed to know. He took a step and Terrance bolted.

Jake sighed and Terrance made it two steps closer to the door before he was felled as Jake fired a lazy bolt of energy in his direction, striking him in the middle of the back. Jake strolled over, grabbed Terrance's leg and walked out the bar, dragging the flailing man behind him. Terrance Mantulia was not a force to be reckoned with. He was a short, balding man, with very little muscle on him. But he was very smart and even better at hiding. It had taken Jake almost a month to find out that he was a man who had dealt with the Master, and it had taken him another three weeks to actually track Terrance. Terrance was a middle man, knew how to get hold of people who had alien tech. The Master had dealt with people across the cosmos and the more people Jake threatened, the more one name kept cropping up: Terrance Mantulia. Unfortunately for Terrance, his entire life consisted of and often hinged on, not ending up in situations where he was being dragged out of a bar by his ankle. He was good at not getting into these situations, but utterly useless at getting out of them.

"Terrance!" Jake said cheerily, allowing Terrance to stand once they were outside the bar. He watched the older man with a curiosity; he wanted to see what he would do now that he was on his feet. The smart ones rarely tried to run twice. If he did, Jake would have to break his leg. "We need to have a little chat."

Terrance looked like this was a moment that he had been dreading for his entire life. He probably had. His entire life consisted of avoiding people he'd pissed off, not to mention almost every major government organisation in about five nebulas. Jake could only imagine, waking up in the middle of the night, sweating, looking down at the end of your bed to check that you were still where you'd gone to sleep and that you were alone.

"What about?" Terrance was literally shaking and Jake was surprised that he had managed to get the sentence out. In retrospect, maybe the calmer approach should have been his first tactic. He should have walked in, bought Terrance a drink and tried to loosen his tongue. He could always have resorted to this tactic if he'd had to eventually. Still, he hadn't done that and they were here now.

"About the Master," Jake's tone harshened slightly. Terrance blinked. Jake almost felt pity for him, as there was a moment where hope flashed into his eyes. He'd never heard of the Master, he thought that this was a mistake and that maybe this wouldn't be the day that his crimes came back to haunt him. Jake took a kind of sick pleasure in his next words. "You might know him as Harold Saxon." The hope extinguished, fresh fear and panic dripping Terrance as Jake crossed his arms expectantly.

"What about him?" Terrance tried tentatively. He was trying to give himself time to come up with an answer that wouldn't get him killed, either by Saxon or by Jake. It was a fine line and Jake knew that he could break Terrance if he needed to, both mentally and physically. He took another step towards him. He'd been giving Terrance plenty of room, trying to let him think that this might not be painful for him. But as he closed the gap between them, he could see Terrance was desperately trying not to piss himself.

"Everything," Jake snarled and this time, there was no mistaking the menace in his voice. He took another step, so Terrance was inches from him and all Jake could smell was sweat and the booze on his breath. He could hear the whimpering that Terrance was trying hard to contain. "Everything you know. Where he might be, his associates, anything."

"I…I don't know…anything," Terrance was cracking, Jake could see it. He was also lying. Jake put a hand on Terrance's shoulder gently and Terrance's wince was audible. He took another step and Terrance stepped back to keep the distance between the same. Two more steps and Terrance had nowhere left to move to. He was edged against the wall, crying now, very loudly and it made Jake want to rip out his tear ducts.

"Terrance," Jake warned him. "If you lie to me again, I'll be forced to take action."

Terrance sniffled, but before he could open his mouth to answer, the wall they were pressed against exploded. Jake's only thought was frustration as he was thrown off of his feet, sent sprawling across the ground, steel and fire pummelling him like a freight train. He didn't bother picking himself up for a moment, enjoying the feeling of lying down somewhat and giving his body the chance to recover from the immense battering it had just taken. The explosion would have killed Terrance, along with everyone in the bar, he knew that and when he opened his eyes, what was left of the bar was still ablaze, but he suspected the heat would have killed everyone inside. And the person who had blown it up would be long gone; they wouldn't have stuck around for the explosion.

Well that narrowed it down somewhat if nothing else. He'd made a concerted effort to ensure that Clara didn't know where he was going, but ensured that he'd had loud conversations with the Doctor about the topic in front of Amy and Rory, and River. Nevertheless, he hated being one step behind. He'd got one up on Saxon, he'd ruled out Clara as a suspect, at least partially. He wasn't stupid enough to think that this was conclusive, but the truth was, he'd never really been able to suspect Clara to the same extent from the off. He could read Clara well and it was all a little too conveniently wrapped up to be her. But then, that could equally be her plan, and Jake wasn't going to rule out the possibility. But he could at the least worry less about Clara and more about the others.

And it was a worry. The idea that one of the his team could betray him was a terrifying one. He'd known them all for years. He knew that for one of them to turn against him, someone had to have leverage. Major leverage. And he needed to find out. And fast…

The Doctor had fussed, the way that the Doctor fussed when Jake had returned, battered and bruised and feeling more the worse for wear. But the Doctor wasn't acting completely like the Doctor and on any other day, Jake would have questioned it. But in that moment, Jake didn't care; he just needed to know who had sold him out. He didn't care about sleep, he didn't care about the aches and pains in his body. He was driven, by a single-minded determination to discover who he was going to kill. That and finding the Master. But Terrance had been his last lead. Well, almost his last lead. Someone inside his team knew where Saxon was and he would find out who or die trying.

Frustration was pent up within him, so he knew that the only way to clear his head, which was muddled with thoughts, was to hit something. He shooed the Doctor away and went to the training area, where he mused over who was the most likely to turn and indeed, who the evidence pointed towards. As he stepped into the area, he saw that he wasn't alone, for Amy was kicking a dummy as hard as she could, over and over again, as Jake entered. She glanced up when he entered but didn't acknowledge him. She was annoyed at him.

"Amy," he greeted wearily. She didn't look at him for a moment, then gave the dummy a couple more kicks, before stopping and strolling to meet him. "Fancy a session?"

She didn't respond, she merely got into a stance. Jake moved slowly at first, circling her, fixating on her eyes and waiting for her to make the first move. She was already tired from working out and as Jake put the pieces together in his mind, he figured that there was no harm in testing Amy's resolve, as she took a step closer to him. Jake saw the lunge coming and sidestepping, just as he anticipated the punch to the ribs that would follow, catching it and twisting Amy so that she spiralled.

"You'll be interested to hear," he said as he backed off, Amy seething as she tried to regain her balance. "That I managed to track down that Terrance person I was talking about." Amy's face didn't change as she stepped in again, except for a flicker of intrigue in her eye. Jake this time stepped in to join her, so they were closer, within striking distance.

"Did the bastard give you anything useful?" Amy asked cautiously, trying a left hook that Jake parried, twisting into a soft couple of punches to Amy's ribs.

"The Master and his stooges blew up a building on us," Jake replied casually, watching Amy's face like a hawk, but it didn't discernibly shift, except for the possibility of a hint of disappointment.

"Looks like you shouldn't have told Clara where you were going," Amy replied bluntly, before swinging a fierce kick towards Jake's face, which he stepped away from.

"Actually," Jake smirked slightly and then stepped in to fire a volley of quick-fire punches to Amy's side. "Clara didn't know at all. At least, I didn't tell her. And why would anyone else tell her?"

Amy's smile fell and there was anger in her eyes as she staggered back, reeling from the flurry of blows. Jake breathed deeply, studying Amy carefully. She looked very annoyed and Jake was trying to decipher if it was because he hadn't blamed Clara, or because he hadn't blamed Clara. He doubted that anyone would have told Clara about his trip, as that would incriminate them more than her and no traitor that had covered their tracks this well so far was that stupid.

"She must've found a way to find out!" Amy retorted angrily, moving in again, her strikes getting wilder and easier for Jake to dodge as he stepped in to punch her in the gut and then the throat. Amy groaned as she hit the ground and Jake offered her a hand up which she refused, clambering to her feet, but Jake was already walking away.

"Or maybe," he called back over his shoulder. "She's innocent."

* * *

For Jake, there were two possibilities regarding Amelia Pond. Either she was angry and frustrated because she genuinely believed that Clara was guilty and could see no other option, or because she was so annoyed that Jake wasn't falling into her trap of blaming Clara. And both possibilities were equally plausible in his mind, he couldn't work out which was the case for the life of him. And there were so many other people and factors to consider. He was still pondering, when he heard the crying.

It wasn't just crying, but crying silently, it was like someone was weeping. He couldn't hear wailing, he could barely hear anything. It had been a hiccup. A slightly teary hiccup but an uncontrollable one, followed by a slight sniff and a low muttering, like someone was chastising themselves. Jake moved closer to the source of the noise, the kitchen near his room. He didn't want to interrupt the intensely private moment going on inside, so pressed his ear to the closed and locked door. Nothing. If whoever was in there was still crying, they were giving very little audible clues. He flipped his watch open and patched into the security footage of the kitchen. He knew it was a moral grey area, but whoever was in there was in distress and there was only person that it could.

The image picked up. Sure enough, Clara was sat in the corner of the kitchen, floods of tears pouring down her face, her hair sticking to her cheeks, her eyes focused on the chargrilled soufflé sitting on her lap. She had her hands in a vice grip around the soufflé, so tight that he could see the strain on her knuckles. Jake knew the significance of the soufflé, what it meant to Clara and what it meant for Clara. How many times had she tried to replicate it, he wondered. The Doctor had managed it. But Clara couldn't. That must sting her, right to her core. She must miss her mum right now, Jake mused. More than anything. He didn't need the tears or the soufflé to know that. She looked so alone, so vulnerable and it physically hurt Jake, like a punch to the gut, to know that he couldn't simply go in there, wrap his arm around her and tell her that it would be okay.

But he wasn't that man anymore. He couldn't be that man anymore. And he wasn't the man that Clara Oswald wanted to comfort her. He wasn't the man that Clara Oswald deserved to comfort her. Which of course, led him to the problem of where the hell that man was. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together. No wonder the Doctor had been acting so oddly.

Jake was already moving. There was a fury and a defensiveness within him that hadn't been ignited in a long time. The Doctor was in his room, tinkering, like the Doctor always did when he was stressed. The Doctor didn't deal well with emotions, especially not his own.

"What the fucking hell were you playing at?" Jake demanded, as the Doctor looked up and frowned as he entered. "And don't even try and play dumb with me Doctor," he added, as the Doctor opened and shut his mouth. "It doesn't suit you at all. Clara. What did you say?"

If there had been any doubt in his mind as to what had gone down, it vanished at the way that the Doctor's face contorted when he said Clara's name. "She got under my skin," the Doctor admitted and Jake's face must've been terrifying because the Doctor's eyes widened and he very quickly backtracked. "I don't mean. I just mean…Jake, I…"

"Doctor, breathe!" Jake said firmly but gently. The Doctor took a deep breath and straightened his bow tie. "It's me, I get it. Just talk to me. Tell me what happened."

"She demanded the truth," the Doctor sighed. "So I told her why I couldn't believe that we had a traitor. Why I can't believe we have a traitor, because I can't see it being anyone, other than her. And I know that you believe in her, but we both know that the only reason for that is that-"

"Clara's innocent," Jake interrupted quickly, not wanting the conversation to go down that road. Not again. It never ended well for them. "Doctor, she didn't know about the Terrance thing. Unless she hacked the system to check the TARDIS's locational drop off. Did she?"

"She couldn't have," the Doctor admitted. "I was monitoring the system the entire time; I'd have seen a breach in the system. So you're saying that if she was the traitor, then there was no way for her to know about Terrance and he wouldn't have been blown up?"

"I'm saying it shouldn't matter," Jake snapped and the Doctor shut up instantly. "You understand tech better than anyone I've ever met. But you're such an alien when it comes to people. Clara is special. You know that you're so completely in love with her and we both know that you've not felt this way for someone in a very long time. So don't throw that away. She's not the traitor and the truth is, you've not once thought it either. All your logic, all your brain is telling you is that she has to be, but I know you. You've refused to accept it. You won't let Clara be the traitor. And that's wonderful, that's how it should be. So defend her. Stand by her side Doctor. Because she needs someone right now. She needs you. So go and patch things up with her, whilst I find out who the fuck is behind this shit."

"Jake," the Doctor called as Jake turned to leave. He turned back to face the Doctor, who had straightened up and was flicking back his quiff. "Thank you."


	17. Chapter 17: Setting a Trap

***Hey guys! Back to Clara for this chapter, but there's also more Jake involved. The tension is ramping up, the team is almost at breaking point, anything can happen. I hope that you like it! TPD***

* * *

Clara had never felt more alone in her entire life. And she hadn't wanted her mum this much in a very long time. She would know what to do; she always knew what to do. But there was nobody and once again, her mum wasn't around to help her. Clara had thrown away her old life, thrown away her dad, her friends; let them think that she was dead, and for what? Nobody here trusted her. They all shot her those same, suspicious looks, eyeing her up like she was toxic. And it hadn't bothered her that much, because she'd had the Doctor, never wavering in his faith in her and she had loved him all the more for it. Until he had. Until he'd turned against her too, just like everyone else.

And now here she was, sprawled across the kitchen floor. She didn't even have the motivation to move. The soufflé, the burnt, ruined, perpetually out of reach soufflé was still in her lap, a vicious reminder of both her mother and the Doctor, both of whom had given her the perfect soufflé, made her think that they'd always be there for her, but then had let Clara down when she needed them the most. She should have known that it was too good to last and that things with the Doctor had been going too well. Because the way things went for Clara, when she got too happy, when she gave herself the hope that things might look up, that's when things tended to collapse around her.

Clara shifted slightly and the soufflé fell out of her lap, still in its ramekin as it rolled away from her, skidding off down the kitchen and Clara didn't bother trying to stop it. That ship had sailed. She curled up into a ball and wiped her eyes with her hands frantically, trying to regain a modicum of control over herself before a fresh wave hit her and she choked back a sob as her hands fell back to her knees. What was the point trying to fight it? Clara could fight fifty arseholes with guns, but what use was that when she couldn't fight her own insecurities, or the feeling of abandonment that had plagued her for her entire life?

She knew that she had to move, because she couldn't simply lie on the kitchen floor forever. She needed to stand up, she needed to put the soufflé in the bin, and she needed to find a way to get control back over her life. Starting with the first few movements. She pushed off, tottering slightly as she tried to stand, her body betraying her and it took her a moment to stabilise herself. Every step towards the soufflé was a killer and when she finally bent down to pick it up, she was shaking again. She took a deep breath and then she let out a scream of anguish and hurled the soufflé across the room, falling back to her knees.

She was going nowhere quickly, Clara knew that. It was one thing committing yourself to standing up and getting out of a situation, but often your brain, your emotions and your body had different ideas. She wanted her mum. More than anything, she just wanted her shoulder, her loving shoulder. Her mum's shoulder had been warm and soft, whilst the Doctor's was very bony and hard. The Doctor. Clara thought about him standing up and walking out on her and a fit of sobs racked her body. She forced herself to breathe, and then she was somehow on her feet again. She just had to make it to her room, where she'd be able to cry in peace, or maybe get some sleep. She was pretty knackered and she'd been up all of the previous night, unable to sleep, because every time she rolled over, she kept expecting a yelp when she elbowed her idiot in the ribs. And she'd thought that maybe, just maybe, today would be the day that she made her mum's soufflé. She'd been able to do it all the time when she was younger, even without her mum's help sometimes. But when her mum went, her soufflé went with her.

Clara managed to get the kitchen door open and that was when her body decided to work. She didn't want to be caught between the kitchen and her room so she bolted, her legs and arms working of their own accord. She gulped deep breaths of air as she reached her bedroom and when she looked inside, she went ice cold inside, her entire body seizing up.

"Clara," the Doctor said softly, from his perch on her bed. "I'm sorry."

She was torn. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, lean her head on his stupid bony shoulder and make everything better. But at the same time, she couldn't help but be wary. He'd broken her heart, was it really safe or fair to just throw herself back into his arms, that easily? Clara suddenly felt a new emotion rising within her. Anger. The Doctor stood and opened up his arms. She closed the gap between them and then punched him in the arm viciously. He looked like a kicked puppy.

"Owwww!" he protested, as Clara glared at him. "Clara! I'm sorry okay?!"

"You!" she yelled. "You think you can just treat me like I'm some whimsy? You can't just tell me that you don't trust me, that you think I'm the traitor, that I would do that to you and then just expect me to jump back into bed with you!"

"You're right," the Doctor replied, holding his hands up defensively, worried she'd hit him again but Clara had no intention of doing so. "Clara, I should never have doubted you. I didn't doubt you, I mean I did, but I only doubted you logically, not emotionally and…"

Clara cut him off, throwing her arms around him, burying her head into his chest, nuzzling his tweed, which was horribly scratchy against her cheek, but it felt good, the grazing feeling made her feel alive and she felt him kiss the top of her head. She broke the contact to look into his eyes, to see how sorry he was. He held her tightly and she felt at home in his arms.

"I tried to bake a soufflé," she admitted and she could feel him tense up slightly.

"How did that go?" he whispered and she raised an eyebrow at him. "The same as normal then? You'll get there one day Clara, you just need to believe in yourself."

"Easier said than done," Clara sighed, chewing on her lip. "I'm not my mum. I'll never be my mum, she would be so much better at this than me. She'd have found the traitor by now, she'd be able to actually help people."

"Clara," the Doctor urged her, gently, cupping her cheek and kissing her softly. "You aren't your mother, you're your own individual person. If you keep comparing yourself to someone else, even someone who meant the world to you, then you'll always be living in their shadow. You are Clara Oswald and the only way to flourish as Clara Oswald is to be yourself, not comparing yourself to your mum. And I love Clara Oswald. I think that she's the most beautiful person in the entire world, inside and out."

"Thank you Doctor," Clara murmured, guiding him towards the bed and pulling him down to the soft duvet, his flustered face amusing her. "You make everything better." The velvet was like heaven to her and she felt the Doctor moving closer to her. Clara was so tired, so overwhelmed, and so content, that it took her less than a minute to drift off to sleep.

Clara knew that there would be consequences. Everything had shifted in the base now, the mood was a lot less friendly than it had been previously. Amy had become downright unsociable towards anyone other than Rory, who had taken to keeping to himself as much as he could, talking only to Amy and occasionally the Doctor or River. River herself seemed on edge, her smiles only covering up so much and she was a master at hiding how she really felt. Jake was openly hostile towards everyone, but Clara didn't miss the smiles or looks that he shot in her direction when he thought that she wasn't looking. And the Doctor, who was utterly awful at dealing with tension, was steadfastly defending Clara, which had ripped a hole in his friendship with Amy. Clara could see it, and she felt guilty for it, but equally she couldn't help but be suspicious of Amy. But then, Clara had reached the point of desperation, they all had. Somebody needed to get caught out.

That was the question underlying everything, it was no longer avoidable and even the Doctor couldn't help but ask it. Nobody ever said it out loud, but the thoughts were obvious and it was getting to a point where nobody really knew how to proceed. So it was relief to Clara when one morning, a couple of weeks after her and the Doctor's falling out, Jake rapped on her door whilst she and the Doctor were relaxing.

"We need to deal with this," Jake informed them as he entered the room and sat on the bed, looking around quickly and nodding when he was satisfied that they weren't being eavesdropped on. "We need to draw the traitor out into the open. So I've been thinking, that sooner or later, they're going to try and set up Clara again. And they know that I'll be trying to catch them out. So, what if we let them?"

"Let them…what?" Clara frowned as the Doctor made the connection and grinned. "Let them set me up?"

"Exactly!" the Doctor clapped his hands together. "They'll try to turn one of Jake's traps against him, to make it look like Clara is guilty; to make it seem like Clara's the one behind it. And if we let them, if we let them think that Clara's guilty and then we stage her escape…"

"Then the traitor will think that they're in the clear," Clara concluded. "So what, I go on the run or something? And then I come back when you two have worked out who it is, seeing as how the traitor will completely drop their guard and make a mistake."

"We need to move quickly," Jake said hurriedly. "Saxon has been gone for months, there's no telling how advanced his Dalek armies are by now, they could be active any time. We don't have time to be chasing tails any longer. Luckily, I've already planted the means for them to set you up. They all know that I'm heading off in a couple of hours to track another, albeit non-existent, lead on the Master. I'm expecting an entourage when I get there. I've not told them where I'm going, so they'll have to check the TARDIS to find out. And won't it be convenient for them when they find Clara's watch lying around unattended?"

"Surely we could just catch them doing it on camera?" the Doctor posited, but Jake laughed at that. Clara rolled her eyes as well. "What?"

"You really think that the traitor's that stupid?" Clara put in. "They'll have had complete control of the cameras for months. Either they can turn them off whenever they need to, or they've somehow been able to alter the footage. Either way, there's no way to catch them in the act. Not whilst everyone's on high alert anyway. That's why I need to go into hiding in the first place, after all."

"There's a minefield of tunnels down here," Jake informed her. "And I've converted several of the caves into secret rooms. Whilst I'm gone and you're getting betrayed, the Doctor will show you where you'll be hiding out. You stay there until one of us comes to get you. We'll be in contact the entire time, Doctor give her a spare watch, but encode it so only you and I have access to that network."

"What about her watch?" the Doctor quizzed. "And how're we going to make the getaway convincing?"

"The traitor will destroy the watch when they realise Clara's gone," Jake mused. "And as for making the getaway look convincing…" He smiled wickedly. "I'm going to have to punch you in the face."

* * *

Jake felt no nerves at what was about to go down. He'd been here enough times to see how this played out. They would pull it off, without a hitch. He, the Doctor and Clara were too good, too smart to fail. As he stepped into the TARDIS, he knew that he was taking a risk though. If the traitor realised that he, the Doctor and Clara were all working together, they would become damned near impossible to catch. But time was short. There was no telling how long it would be before the galaxy was swarming with Daleks. And the Daleks were machines of destruction and death. If they got started, that would be that. The end of everything. Even stopping them would result in bloodshed, the war to defeat them last time had cost more lives than Jake could ever count.

He felt his body being dissipated and then reformed and took a step forwards, onto a platform, raised high above a storming sea. The supposed target wouldn't be here for another hour, Jake had given the traitor plenty of time to mobilise their forces. The platform that he was on was a hundred thousand miles from anywhere, in the middle of a storming ocean on the planet Gabbidon and it was widely recognised as a meeting place for individuals who wanted to avoid the spotlight. The Master would know it well and the only ways to arrive were by flying or teleport. Perfect spot to meet someone selling out Harold Saxon.

Jake anticipated the wait, embraced it. It wouldn't be long before everything kicked off. The calm before the storm is always the best time to relax, clear your head and make sure that you didn't fuck it up. That was exactly what Jake intended to do. Ten minutes passed, then twenty, then thirty. He had been there forty minutes when nerves started to kick in. Maybe the Master was waiting for the supposed informant to arrive before sending in the cavalry. Fifty minutes. It wouldn't be long now, maybe another ten before the informant showed. Even though there was no informant, Jake had taken no chances, so had paid someone that he'd found in a bar the previous night to fly in.

Exactly one hour after Jake had landed, he arrived and Jake steeled himself for an assault. The ship was flying low, coming in to land and Jake was watching every angle, unsure where the attack would come from. The ship settled on the platform and Jake managed to take one step forwards it before it exploded. Even knowing it was coming, he still couldn't ground himself in time to stop the force throwing him off his feet and off the platform, the flames and energy from it stinging against his skin as he spiralled towards the cold, black water below. He at least managed to feel a grim sense of satisfaction from knowing that the bait had been taken, and then he crashed into the sea.

* * *

The TARDIS wasn't a fan of underwater rescue missions, Jake learned as it spat him out into the base. He spat vile sea water out and shook his head like a dog, running a hand through his soaked hair as he entered the main room. The Doctor and Amy were in there and they looked up as he entered, intrigue in their eyes. He tried to cover up his smugness under a mask of pure fury. Thankfully, Amy bought it.

"I was sold out," Jake snapped. "Again."

He waited for one of them to take the bait, hoping that Amy would gleefully suggest Clara. She didn't disappoint.

"Well that's what happens," she said in a sing-song voice. "When you trust Clara."

Jake gave her a glare and stalked over to them, keeping his emotions in check and portraying the fury of a man who'd been fucked over by someone he considered a friend. He had to admit, he felt slightly guilty for what he was about to do, but the Doctor had accepted it and sacrifices had to be made.

"I didn't trust Clara!" Jake shouted, his fists clenched, his body hunched and for a moment, Amy looked utterly terrified of him. "I didn't trust anyone. Nobody knew where I was going, somebody must have accessed the TARDIS log. Doctor," he indicated and Amy's face twisted into a smirk as they all poured over the console. Jake watched Amy out of the corner of his eye, trying to act more interested in the console. Then, sure enough.

"No way!" the Doctor froze and stumbled back, his face changing. Maybe he had genuinely still been holding out hope that there wasn't a traitor, or maybe he was just a better actor than Jake had given him credit for. Either way, he looked stunned.

"I knew it!" Amy hissed and the Doctor was glaring at her now. "Clara fucking Oswald betrayed us. Or are you still going to try and deny it Jake?" she snapped. "We need to find her and fast, before she gets away."

"Amy's right," the Doctor swallowed, still visibly shaking. "I'll go check her room, but I think she mentioned going to train."

"I'll check the training area," Jake agreed. "Amy?"

"Oh," Amy said with a twisted smile. "I'll come with you. I want to give her a piece of my mind. She's broken the heart of my best friend. Nobody hurts the Doctor and gets away with it. Nobody."

Jake raced towards the training area, Amy in tow and he couldn't help but smile softly to himself. Everything was going according to plan. As he burst into the area, he could see Amy's eyes narrowing to slits as Clara was nowhere to be seen. Jake could see her alarm growing rapidly as he sighed and they turned on their heels. When they reached the main base room, Amy was already moving towards the other corridor, when the Doctor came staggering out of it with a black eye, falling into Amy's arms.

"Doctor!" she yelled, helping him over to the sofa. He was hopping and yelping and when he laid down, Jake was over, right in the Doctor's face, as aggressive as he could be.

"Where is she?" he roared and the Doctor froze. Amy shot Jake a slightly despairing look but didn't disagree with the sentiment behind it. The Doctor looked flustered as he waited a moment to respond, choosing his words carefully and buying Clara time.

"She got away," he mumbled eventually and Amy went pale. Jake swore, loudly and harshly and turned to wallop the other sofa. Amy was already on her feet and Jake turned to the Doctor, every part of the act buying Clara valuable seconds.

"What the hell do you mean she got away?" Jake thundered and both of them flinched. "How the hell did you let her get away Doctor? How the hell did she even know where to get away to, I never showed her any of the secret passages? Did you?"

"Jake," Amy tried to calm him but he was off on one now and every moment that Amy and the Doctor were trying to calm him, Clara was one step closer to her safe haven and the act looked even more convincing.

"She didn't do this," the Doctor replied quietly and Amy's head twisted to the Doctor like a gunshot. "I know she didn't, Clara isn't capable of…"

"Oh wake up and smell the roses!" Jake toppled the sofa with the Doctor still on it and Amy squealed as it went flying. "You let her go, you fucking idiot. And for what? Some stupid idea that the two of you have a future together? I understand that you love her Doctor but…"

Jake was cut off by Amy's fierce glare as the Doctor stormed off. Amy chased after him and only then did Jake allow himself a moment to breathe, before flicking a few buttons on his watch.

"Clara, it's me. She bought the whole thing."


	18. Chapter 18: Exile

***Hey guys, early update because I'm heading out! This one is a bit of a filler chapter, but there's plenty of cute Whouffle to fill it, I hope you love your cute Whouffle. As ever, thank you so so much to Chantelle for all of her help and thank you so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited. I hope you like it and please let me know what you think! TPD***

* * *

Clara had to admit, Jake didn't fuck around. When he told her that he'd converted one of the spare caves in the tunnel system above and around the base into a bedroom, he hadn't been kidding. It was just as big as Clara's bedroom in the base itself, albeit a little colder, but no less comfortable. The rug covering the floor was as soft, the bed as gigantic and welcoming, she had an en-suite bathroom with hot water and bubble bath, which was all she really needed. The bag she'd had packed had enough clothes to keep her going for a month and in terms of food, Jake had planned ahead for that, with a small oven/hob unit and a freezer with enough food to keep Clara ticking over. Jake and the Doctor were both happy to sneak out to bring her anything else that she needed.

Clara's biggest problem was boredom. She had the Doctor and Jake only a push of the button away, but they rarely got the chance to talk. It was a secure line, but neither Jake nor Clara were willing to take many risks with it and whilst the Doctor was desperate to take risks, it was his network and he had to admit that the chances of it being discovered or hacked went up every single time that they used it.

The Doctor visited whenever he could, but that turned out to be twice in the first week and a half of Clara's exile. The first time was a brief visit, no more than five minutes and it had been tough to see him going. After that, Jake had managed to think of a good enough lie that the Doctor was on an overnight mission and he ended up staying with Clara for the whole evening, which was absolute bliss, but still torturous when he left.

So she had to find ways to entertain herself, usually training, as she spent a good three or four hours a day working on her poses, her moves, trying to keep her body as honed and under control as she could whilst she was locked away, waiting for the Doctor and Jake to expose the traitor. But she also spent a lot of time plotting, trying to pick apart the motivations and actions of the other to decipher which of them was the problem that she needed to solve. And she kept coming back to Amy, one way or the other. She couldn't help it, she and Amy had never gotten along from her first day and she had a great deal more trust and respect for Rory and River than she did Amy. But equally, she recognised that that wasn't the case for the Doctor and Jake, who were as perplexed by the problem as it was possible to be and insisted that Amy could just be being Amy.

At least she had a lot of time to work on her soufflés. Jake must've been thinking of that, because he had supplied a truckload of eggs and milk for her to work with, that would hopefully last her at least a couple of weeks. In the ten days she'd been in exile, she'd been forced to bin no less than fifty soufflés, all with varying degrees of not-mum's. She was a bit of a shit cook, but Jake had prepared for that as well, so she was living off ready meals, taking lots of baths, sleeping for twelve hours a night and just generally trying to pass the time.

She had just painted her toes for the fourth time that day, this time a vibrant purple, when the Doctor called her and she almost squealed when her watch beeped and she answered the call, annoyed at herself for feeling giddy like a schoolgirl. She could hear the depth of his breathing and she could hear the rustling that indicated that he was straightening his bow tie. She waited for his voice, sensing he was doing the same, analysing her every sound.

"Doctor?" she greeted, rolling her eyes as she gave in to her childish boyfriend.

"Clara!" he sounded both relieved and enthusiastic, no more than she'd come to expect from him. "All's quiet down here, I thought I'd sneak up and surprise you later, give us a few hours together, how does that sound?"

Clara kicked over her nail polish in excitement and swore loudly as a result. She could practically hear the Doctor's wince and desperately scrambled to stop it staining the carpet.

"Well if you don't want me…" she heard him mumble like a spoilt child.

"Oh for the love of…" Clara laughed despite herself. "You're such a moron, I just spilt my nail polish. Yes I want you, get your arse down here. Sometime after seven okay for you? I have a fully packed day of taking a bath, eating fish fingers out the freezer and brushing my hair for the tenth time to be getting back to."

"Hang in there," the Doctor whispered seriously all of a sudden. "I know it's boring for you up there, but we're going to catch them. Jake's been running over every angle, I don't know how long it'll be but they will slip up, I promise. Oh and you know what would go great with those fish fingers?"

"Custard?" Clara was smiling stupidly, the sound of his voice enough to completely revitalise her mood. "For the five millionth time, that's the stupidest, most disgusting idea I've ever heard in my entire life." There was a pause. "I love you. Stay safe."

"I love you too Clara," he replied and she could hear it on his voice, the need, the emotion and it successfully send a shiver rocketing down her spine as she thought about his hands touching her. "Stay safe."

And then the call was over and Clara felt empty in the pit of her stomach all over again, knowing that he was out there, but not with her. She mopped up what was left of the purple stain sinking into the carpet and then poured herself a long hot bath. By the time she was climbing into it, her nails had dried and she was able to completely relax in the hot water, sliding deeper and deeper into the bath and closing her eyes as she sunk, her chocolate locks swimming around her like a halo. She stayed lying there for a good half an hour, letting her body wrinkle up and float, completely and utterly relaxed and for once, she wasn't thinking about anything at all.

After that, she made dinner, fish fingers and custard. She had been lying to the Doctor, she'd tried it once to prove to herself that he was in fact, mental and she loved it more than anything else. But she could never admit it to him, or he'd get that stupid, smug look on his stupid, smug face that would make Clara want to hit him. So her love of fish fingers and custard had to be kept a secret, especially from the Doctor. She'd told him sometime after seven, which she knew for him would be one minute past the hour. So by one minute to seven, Clara was dressed in her favourite red dress, her hair curly and hanging loosely on her shoulders, wearing the necklace that the Doctor had bought her for her birthday, a set of earrings that she'd gotten for Christmas from him and minimal makeup. She wanted to look her best, seeing as how it might be the last time in quite a while that she actually saw the man that she loved.

She wanted to know everything, needed to know everything that was going on around her, so this was her perfect chance. But equally, she knew that when she had the tweed-clad idiot in her arms, she wasn't going to be able to resist the urge to do things that didn't require words at all. And sure enough, at one minute past seven, Clara was greeted by a call from the Doctor, who was sounding mightily embarrassed.

"I'm outside," he informed her and Clara was waiting for the inevitable but. "But I'm sure exactly where you are…"

Jake had designed the room so that it was hidden behind a cave door that from the outside looked no different to the rest of the wall. It didn't surprise her one bit that the Doctor was lost. This had happened both previous times, it was a miracle that they'd managed to get her into the damned cave in the first place.

She opened the door and sure enough, there was the Doctor, lingering a short way from the cave, looking around in a reasonably dumbstruck manner that made Clara giggle when she saw him. His head snapped round upon hearing her giggling and their eyes met. He ran to her and she decided to meet him in the middle and then they froze, mid-kiss as a very pissed off and very Scottish voice behind them spoke.

"I knew it!"

* * *

Jake was still pouring over the data. There had to be an answer somewhere within it. Somehow, there had to be, there was no other way. But the more he looked, and the harder he tried to put the pieces together, the less sense it made. There was a traitor, but it could be any of them. He was missing something. He was missing the leverage. Where was the leverage?

It was a question he had probed from every possible angle. But, for the life of him, he couldn't work out what possible leverage would be enough to sway any of his team, to turn them against him. Amy and Rory, their best leverage was each other, but he couldn't see how either of them could be or were being threatened and River was unswayable to his knowledge. What could turn them? Who could turn them? None of this added up. River's isomorphic weapon, Amy's belligerent attitude towards Clara, the knowledge that there was a woman inside his organisation, the way it had all played out, Jake was being pulled in three different directions. For the millionth time, he almost wished Clara was guilty. It would at least make his task easier, if nothing else.

Relations amongst the team had at least picked up, to an extent. Everyone was feeling relieved, the sense of tension had dissipated somewhat. There was still the danger of Saxon and the Daleks, but they had faced the likes of that before and would no doubt would again. It was worrying, problematic, but nothing like the internal warfare that had been going on in the previous weeks and for that Jake was glad. When the atmosphere is suspicious, catching someone trained is almost impossible. But when it's relaxed, then they slip up.

It was Rory, in the end, who gave Jake the breakthrough, completely unintentionally as it turned out. He entered the room whilst Jake was sat, hunched, over the table, rereading for the thousandth time the files from the Harriet Jones assassination, trying to find some detail that he'd missed. There didn't to be anything, until Rory interjected.

"Where are the others?" he asked. Jake glanced up, before racking his brain and shrugging.

"The Doctor's in his lab," he lied. "I think anyway. No idea where Amy is, but River asked for a few hours to handle some personal stuff, so I didn't want to probe. She seemed quite upset, so I felt a little bad for her."

"I'm not surprised," Rory sighed and Jake raised an eyebrow. "It's Jack's birthday."

Of course it was. Jack, who had been shot in that bar fight, over a year and a half ago now, not too long before Clara had joined up, not a huge amount of time before this whole fucking mess had started. Jack. Whose body Jake had never seen, as he'd only heard the news from River. Jack. River's brother. The man she'd grown up with, the one person in the world that she'd been able to form a serious relationship to. Her leverage. He'd been so stupid and so blind. Pieces and cogs aligned in his brain and he stood, staring at Rory for a moment, as Rory frowned.

"River," Jake said urgently. "It's River. It was River all along. I should have known, nobody can tamper with isomorphic controls. Jack, Rory. Jack is her leverage. Think about it, they grew up together. They were almost thirty when they joined us. Jack is the only family River's had. If someone were to kidnap him, force her to work against us…"

"But Jack died," Rory spluttered and Jake shot him a look. "Jack died in a bar fight."

"We were told Jack died in a bar fight," Jake spat. "By River Song. The same River Song who I hired as an undercover fucking operative. She could fool anyone in the entire universe. Including, apparently, us. We need to find her. Now."

It wouldn't be that easy to find River, but he knew where to start. Underneath the base, there was a crypt, with memorials to all those that had been lost in the call of duty. Among those, obviously there was a memorial for Jack. If River was going to be anywhere, today of all days, it would be there. Jake nodded to Rory, who was still joining the dots in his head, as they raced towards the crypt.

He had half expected not to find herself inside. After all, she'd told him she was doing something personal. She could easily have been reporting back to Saxon or something related. But then, he wasn't shocked when she was in there, a bunch of flowers in her hand. After all, it was still Jack's birthday and, wherever he was, if he was being held against her, as leverage, then he doubted that River would be able to see him often, if at all and to her, it was almost as if she had lost her brother.

"River," Jake said calmly but firmly, taking a step towards her, as Rory stepped back to cover the door. "It's over."

"Sweetie?" River frowned, getting to her feet to stare at them, flitting her glance between him and Rory. "What is it? What's going on."

"I know that you're the traitor," Jake said calmly. River's face paled.

"Jake," she stammered. "Please. Listen…"

"No River," Jake snarled. "I understand perfectly. Jack. He's still alive. And they're using him to keep you under their thumb. Well I'll rescue Jack and I may even let you live if you comply. But tell us where the Master is."

Before River could respond, there was the noise of static kicking up, coming from their watches. All of them. Jake frowned and exchanged a look with Rory and then they both looked back at River, before a low and harsh voice echoed through, the signal that had been hijacked echoing three different ways as it filled the room.

"The prototype. Is ready. It's time."

It was a call to arms.

* * *

Clara swirled as Amy's voice floated from behind her and her breath hitched in her throat, as stared at them in fury, carrying a gun. The Doctor stepped between them instantly, his eyes widening and he tried to take a step closer to Amy, whose eyes narrowed to slits.

"You're a fool," she snapped. "Doctor, but you're still my best friend and I don't want to have to hurt you. I loaded this baby up with power piercers. I wonder, Clara, if I were to not only pull the trigger, but channel all the energy in my body into the bullet, whether you would have time to blink before it passed through your brain. Doctor, this has to be done. I know you love her, but she betrayed us. Clara, where's the Master?"

"I don't know!" Clara shouted back, but she was nervous. Who knew what Amy was capable of? "I'm not the traitor. But I'm really starting to suspect you are. After all, all the best frame-ups end with the murder of the person who's being framed."

"Oh come off it!" Amy laughed. "Jake caught you red-handed Clara, there's no way out now, not for you. You might as well just admit it, it's clear the Doctor's judgment is so apocalyptically poor that he still loves you anyway."

"Amy," the Doctor breathed, shuffling closer and making sure Amy didn't have a clear sight of Clara, whatever happened. "Amelia, please listen to me. Jake and I were setting a trap for the traitor. And right now, it's really not looking good for you, so please Amelia, I know that you are better than this and I know that you aren't the traitor. So please, Amy, put the gun down. For me."

Clara didn't move, she was still as a statue. She felt an odd sensation that she couldn't quite about pinpoint trickling through her, but it was one she had felt before. It was probably dread and fear and all number of powerful emotions, combining to rattle her insides.

"No!" Amy shouted and the Doctor took another short, sharp step. "No Doctor! I know what you're doing. You're lying to me, to try and convince me that she's innocent. How can you be so blind Doctor?" Amy was crying now. "She played you and now she's going to win, because you're on her side, even after she betrayed us all."

At that point, they were interrupted by a noise, coming from the Doctor and Amy's watches, a low, cold voice that declared: "The prototype. Is ready. It's time."

"What the hell was that?" Amy shrieked.

"It's a warning," the Doctor realised, looking around in horror. "Summoning the traitor, it must've been sent to all of our watches. Telling them that they no longer need to hide."

"You hear that Clara?" Amy called. "You don't need to hide anymore."

"Amy," the Doctor said quietly, taking one final step towards her so that he was inches from her and Amy was shaking. Clara couldn't move, she was paralysed by fear. "Clara isn't the traitor."

"Then who is?" Amy screamed.

And whilst Clara couldn't see it, the Doctor's face changed completely, contorting into a vicious smirk.

"I am."

And then he snapped Amy's neck. Clara tried to scream, but she was frozen, rooted to the spot. Then she realised. It wasn't fear keeping her in place. She tried to shout, tried to move, tried to do anything, but she couldn't her entire body had given up on her. And that was the moment, the cold realisation, when she realised where she had felt this before. All those months ago, when the Doctor had been testing incapacitation devices. But how had he…

"Nice necklace," the Doctor sneered, turning to face Clara, the look on his face removing any doubt from her mind. "I was really hoping that you'd wear it tonight, it makes my life so much easier now that I don't have to fight you."

There were so many things racing through Clara's mind as she stood there, unable to defend herself. But confusion trumped all. And then, the Doctor stepped forward, so close that she could feel his breath on her face.

"Goodbye Clara," he whispered.

And then, he blew a hole in her chest, quite literally breaking her heart.


	19. Chapter 19: Reeling

***Hey troops! After yesterday's shock and awe tactic, we're going to turn the tension and danger level up a notch. So, this chapter is from Jake's perspective and mops up the mess left behind from the previous chapter. I hope that you like it and I hope it answers at least some of your burning questions. Also, intriguing little hint for you: tomorrow's chapter is called: To Kill The Doctor. As ever, huge thanks to Chantelle and to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited. Please please please keep reviewing and letting me know what you think! TPD***

* * *

Jake had watched the footage ten times. It always ended the same way. No matter how many times he watched it, willing the ending to be different this time, it still happened the same way. It still ended with the Doctor admitting he was the traitor, snapping Amy's neck, walking over to the incapacitated Clara, blowing her heart up and then turning to smile and wave at the camera before shooting it down.

The Doctor had known, of course, that the camera was there. He'd set it up for Jake after all, to make sure that nobody found Clara before it was time. The Doctor was sending him a message. The message was clear. I'm done playing around with you. He no doubt had Daleks on his side by now, and between him, the Master and the Daleks, this was as bad a situation as Jake had ever faced. And the fact that the Doctor had the balls to broadcast the whole thing for Jake to watch as he murdered his best friend and the woman that loved him, shocked Jake to his core.

"It still doesn't make sense," River snapped from the corner. She wasn't annoyed at Jake, as she had to admit that she would have come to the same conclusion, given the same set of circumstances. "None of this makes sense."

"Doesn't it?" Jake replied coldly. "The assassination. The Doctor wasn't there. He was 'back at base' organising. Would've taken him a matter of seconds to take the TARDIS in, knock you out, steal your gun and use it to kill Harriet Jones and then wipe the system clean of any trace."

"My gun," River pointed out. "Was…"

"Isomorphic," Jake snapped. "Yes I know, but tell me River, who designed and built that fucking gun?" River had no answer to that. "Exactly. The same person who 'deciphered' the message saying that there was a woman inside our organisation, the same person that has been selling us out all along, pinging the guilt between you, Amy and Clara, watching the distrust build up and up, with absolutely none of the suspicion aimed at him. It didn't matter if I was suspicious of Clara, or you or Amy, but if someone ended up getting blamed or even killed then it suited him perfectly. But now that the prototype is ready, whatever that means, he's not needed. So he caused maximum carnage and then left us reeling."

"But Jake," River insisted. "It doesn't make sense. This is the Doctor we're talking about."

Jake didn't argue with her, because she was absolutely right. This was the Doctor. The same Doctor who had stared down millions of Daleks alongside Jake and sent them all to hell. And yet here he was, standing by their side, against Jake. And in those few moments that Jake had seen him, the Doctor didn't look like the Doctor anymore, but something else, someone else, dark, twisted and confident, the smirk on his face sending a chill down Jake's spine no matter how many times he saw it. It made perfect logical sense, and the Doctor himself would appreciate that. But it made absolutely zero sense. River had managed to remain fairly calm, at least that was something. Jake had already made up his mind. He would be the one to kill the Doctor. And he was going to enjoy it. For everything that he had done. To Clara, to Amy and by proxy to Rory and River. Jake refused to admit that the Doctor had hurt him, but oh had he hurt Jake. And in the moment he had seen Clara dying, Jake felt like the only piece left of his humanity was dying with her.

"She's awake!" Rory shouted, staggering into the room. Jake was on his feet, but before he could reach the door, Rory had stepped in front of him. "Have you had any luck on the Doctor front?" There was an edge to Rory's voice that was so terrifying, it sent a shiver down Jake's spine.

"Rory," Jake said very calmly, staring into the eyes of his friend. "I know. I know." Rory didn't seem to calm down even slightly. "Rory, I will find the Doctor. And when I do, I will make his death as slow and as painful as I know how to make it. Do you understand?" Rory nodded.

Jake pushed past Rory, who shared a look with River as Jake raced into the medical bay, to see the dazed and disorientated Clara, hooked up to every tube imaginable, trying to break free of them.

"What the fuck happened?" she wheezed.

* * *

_Jake frowned at the noise coming from his watch, turning back to the startled River. She was as confused as them, imploring Jake with her eyes but it wasn't enough. He knew. He had to know, because if she wasn't the traitor, then who could be… Jake didn't have time to ponder the question further, because his watch roared into life again, beeping at him incessantly. He kept one eye on River as he brought up the video feed that his watch was asking him to look up. The Doctor was sending him something, a live feed. _

_"__Clara isn't the traitor," The Doctor was insisting, only a couple of inches from Amy, looking aggressive. Shit. That was where Amy was then. She must've followed the Doctor, Jake realised. This wasn't good. They had the traitor, he needed to get down there and resolve this mess before it escalated. _

_"__Then who is?!" Amy was demanding, and Jake was screaming inside that it was River, but Amy couldn't hear him. And then, everything happened very quickly. The Doctor moved forward, said the words that made Jake's blood run cold and then snapped Amy's neck. Jake couldn't hear the inhuman noise that Rory made, as his entire body stopped functioning, everything dissolving into a blur. Rory and River were shouting, were moving, but Jake just carried on watching, utterly transfixed as the Doctor moved on Clara. And then, as he put his hand over her chest and it started to glow, Jake felt his own heart stop beating, as if it was the one that had been shredded. _

_And now he was moving, white hot fury rising up inside him, taking over everything, all of his senses focusing on doing to the Doctor what he had done to Amy and Clara. He knew he was too late. Too late to catch the Doctor, too late to save Amy, too late to save Clara. Just like he was always too late. Always one step behind the trend when it mattered most. He knew where he was going and River and Rory didn't, so it was no surprise that he overtook them, sprinting ahead. _

_By the time he got there, it was a bloody mess. He went straight for Clara, the other two stopping behind him to check on Amy. Jake had spared her a glance, but knew she was dead and that there was nothing to be done. The Doctor's killing of Amy had been sharp, instinctive, but he had taken his time over Clara, taking a perverse enjoyment of it, to the point where it was sloppy. She might have a chance. Jake knew it looked back, but there was hope. _

_"__Rory!" he called, but Rory didn't respond. "Rory, she's dead!" Jake shouted. "You need to help with Clara." Rory didn't even look up, he was still cradling Amy. "Rory!" Jake's voice had broken, he was pleading. "Help me! Please!"_

_The please, coupled with the desperation in Jake's voice, at least signalled to River how bad Clara must've been, because she started talking quietly to Rory. Jake was on his feet, gently scooping Clara's limp body into his hands and moving faster than he'd thought possible, Rory and River not budging as he sprinted past them, Clara in his arms, her breathing so slow and ragged that he knew it would stop any moment, her heart battling to heal itself, every ounce of energy left in her broken body racing there, desperately knitting together the tissue, the way that only the Power could. She should have died instantly, but instead she was dying in Jake's arms and he didn't know which was crueller. _

_He placed Clara gently on the medical bed and frowned, fumbling with the medical equipment. Fortunately, it wasn't more than a minute before Rory arrived; looking thoroughly shaken but nevertheless determined and he began working. Jake lingered on the side lines for less than a minute, as River assisted. He had work to do. He needed to shut the Doctor out of the system before it was too late. The most intelligent man that Jake knew, with the ability to rip his entire system apart was the last thing that Jake needed. _

_Jake threw himself into the task, refusing to let the anger that had crawled into every corner of his being overwhelm him completely. He needed to hurt the Doctor and shutting him out, rewriting every code that he had, switching every piece of data, getting the Doctor out of his fucking network, was the only way that he could do it in that moment. It was only when he was done, when every computer network and system that he had at his disposal was rebooting, completely Doctor-free, that he allowed himself a moment to breathe. And he yelled. He yelled in anguish at Clara and Amy, in fury at the Doctor, but more than anything else, because after these years and everything he'd seen and done, he was still completely and utterly helpless._

* * *

It had been a week and Clara still felt pain everywhere when she moved. Rebuilding her broken heart was taking up all of her body's strength, leaving her constantly drained and in pain. But that was nothing. Nothing, compared to the anger that burned within her, hotter than a supernova. She had done the heartbreak stage, it came and went, her barely working heart and soul screaming at her, the pain that she felt at losing the Doctor going at about the same rate as the physical pain. But the anger remained constant, never leaving alone, not even for a second. He'd made her love him, he'd taken everything from her. He'd seen every inch of her, touched every inch of her, felt every inch of her soul. He'd understood her completely and the entire time, he'd given her nothing in return. She'd had the real him hiding away constantly and she felt sick thinking about it.

So she was killing him. She didn't care that Jake, Rory and River would all have dibs on it. He may have killed Amy, but she had had sex with that monster. She wasn't going to let that slide. She'd been used like a tool and she was going to fuck him up in ways that she hadn't even thought of yet. But when she thought of them…

But first, she needed to recover. And that in itself was driving her forwards. She was standing, walking, training, every movement of hers inducing a grin, because it meant that she was one step closer to finding the Doctor. Jake hadn't been to see her since when she'd woken up. He'd relayed the situation, but other than that, other than the smile on his face as he looked at her, there was no sign that he even cared about her in the slightest. Rory and River had been there every day, the guilt written on both their faces obvious. They'd blamed Clara and Clara didn't blame them for it one bit, they'd all been taken in by the Doctor and his ruse. Rory was holding up well on the surface, but then they all were. He just had more reason to break than anyone and occasionally Clara could hear him, just out of eyeshot, screaming, his noises haunting her when she slept. Rory trained for 15 hours a day, when he wasn't sleeping or with Clara. River knew it wasn't healthy, but she didn't have the heart to tell him. After all, Rory wanted to be ready for when the Doctor came. And boy did Clara understand that.

Within two weeks, she was training at full pelt with Jake, who was pushing her longer and harder than ever. They were of the same mind set. The harder they trained, the less that they had to think about the Doctor, but the more ready that they would be. But it was no use, Clara would lie awake at night, missing the space next to her and hating herself for it. There would be moments where she would disconnect the Doctor from the man she had loved and in those moments, she would think about him, smiling, happy for just a hint of a second before she remembered that the Doctor was the same man who had killed Amy and tried to kill her and then despair and fury would envelop her again.

She thought about how hard it must've been for him to immerse himself so completely in the life that he had built for himself. How he could act like he loved Clara, when the whole time, he was just biding his time until he killed her. It confused her so much and it hurt more. All those moments when she opened up, when he opened up, it all meant nothing. It was all worthless. And she was alone again.

She knew what she would do when she killed the Doctor. She would carry on. After all, she didn't join this team for him, he was just the added bonus. She got on well with Jake and things with Rory and River would heal over time, they'd rebuild. She could still do her mum proud. Starting by taking out the Doctor, the Master and every single fucking Dalek that came after them.

And that knowledge, the knowledge that he was out there somewhere, that he was still breathing and that when he wasn't, that she could finally start to move on, was enough to keep Clara pushing herself. It had been almost three weeks since he had left them and she felt more than ready to take him on. They'd always joked about who would win in a fight between them and Clara supposed that she was about to find out. He'd won the last time through a cheap trick and one that she had no intention of falling for again. Jake had been teaching her a new style of fighting. Doctor-fighting.

Jake knew the Doctor better than her in that respect. When it came to combat, to trickery, Jake knew every trick in the Doctor's book. Or at least, he had done. Neither of them were willing to admit that he probably had tricks Jake had never seen or even dreamt about, but it was better than nothing.

Aside from the fighting, she hadn't spoken to Jake much. He had never been a strong emotional friend to Clara, but she suspected that that was down to previous losses more than anything else. He wasn't going to get attached to her. And now, more than ever, the two of them had an almost telepathic friendship. They understood the goal and nothing else. To bring down the Doctor. Every so often, Clara's morality would creep back in and she'd feel guilt, wondering if the Doctor was worth it, worth sacrificing everything that she had thought that she believed in. And every single time she had come to the same conclusion: no he wasn't. She wasn't going to kill him.

But someone had to. She couldn't convince Rory, River or Jake to let him live, let alone all three of them. If she didn't, they would and did it really make her a better person to stand back and watch Jake do it? She wouldn't be any better, she wouldn't feel any better and she would lose a lot of the satisfaction that she would get from doing it herself. The Doctor had to die and if killing him herself gave her the closure that she needed to move on, then that was that.

As the days wore by, her frustration mounted and she could see that Jake felt exactly the same way. He was getting more and more snappy, more and more brutal and he was perpetually swearing. They were nowhere near catching the Doctor. Every single lead that led them anywhere whtehr it was him, the Master or anything Dalek related, went nowhere. The Doctor had been called to arms. So where were they fighting?

The first half a dozen times he'd invited her out for a drink after training, she'd turned him down. Alcohol was the furthest thing from her mind at the time and she had no intention of letting herself become Jake's little drinking buddy. And yet, she accepted his offer the seventh time around. Because she'd had enough of it all. Lying awake at night, with nothing for her to do but stare at the empty space, thinking about ways that she would hurt the Doctor. He had gotten under her skin and changed her and now, the cracks were showing. Clara was different and she was letting the Doctor win more and more each day that she let him turn her into less of a person. But she could see no other way.

Jake ordered them drinks and then went for a piss. He never came back and Clara knew that he was shagging someone in the toilets so drank both of their drinks and was about to get up and leave, when she sensed him. The heaviness of his breathing. The sound of his boots as they connected with the bar floor. The feeling of warmth enveloping the air. But above all, the smell, the rich scent that exploded in her nostrils, sending waves of nostalgia crashing through her to the point where she could barely breathe. It was him.

"Hello Clara," the Doctor greeted her softly, as he sat into the bar seat beside her. "We've got some catching up to do."


	20. Chapter 20: To Kill The Doctor

***Hey there one and all! We're reaching the back end of this chapter and today, things heat up between the Doctor and Clara. I hope that you like it! As ever, humongous thanks to the amazing Chantelle and to all you wonderful readers, reviewers, followers and favouriters. If you're enjoying the story, please please let me know, writers thrive off feedback! TPD***

* * *

"Hello Clara," the Doctor greeted her softly, as he sat into the bar seat beside her. "We've got some catching up to do."

Clara was already moving, sending her fist flying in his direction, but he caught it deftly, moving in closer to her and smiling, the smile that had once filled her heart with joy and warmth, now filled it with dread and an unquenchable thirst to wipe it off of his fucking face, breaking as many of his teeth as she could in the process.

"I have your father," he informed her and she felt her heart sink, blood turning to ice in her veins and a chill running down her spine. She dropped her fist, physically shaking with rage and clenching her fists, but the Doctor merely shunted his bar stool closer to her and leaned in. His smell was intoxicating, knocking Clara off-balance, stunting her thought process. Part of her still longed for it, longed for what it meant, but that part was overwhelmed by fury.

"What. Do. You. Want?" she growled each word as poisonously as she could make them.

"Good question," the Doctor mused. "What do I want? Well, Clara, I want many things." She wanted to snap his vocal cords at him at the seductive way he said her name, as if he owned her. And in a sense, as he had her father, he did. He knew her too well and he knew that she would do anything to save her dad, anything to protect him from harm. "I want world peace. Well, world peace under my rule. I'd quite like a sandwich, but I don't think I'll get one here, it's a bit smoky in here for that. I want unlimited bow ties, but that's just implausible. No, since I have about twenty minutes until Jake stops fucking that girl in the loos and I'd really rather not be here when he gets back, I'll make this quick. I want you."

"And I want to see you six feet underground," Clara said, as sweetly as she could. "You fucking psychopath."

"Then I suggest you listen to me Closwald," the Doctor chuckled. "As I'm sure that that's exactly what you want and I'm more than willing to give you a chance to prove it. One on one. You and me, a fight to the death. Frankly, you wronged me Clara. You were supposed to be dead, yet here you are, very much alive." He was twirling the end of her hair around his finger but she could do nothing to stop it without kicking off a brawl that would get her father killed. But when he stroked her cheek, she caught his hand, the warning glare she shot him enough for him to retract it.

"And you want to finish the job?" she finished for him. "How sweet of you to take it personally. And I must admit, I get an enormous amount of pleasure from the fact that my being alive angers you. But trust me, that's nothing, nothing, compared to the pleasure that I will take from killing you. You want a fight Doctor," her tone had been getting progressively less friendly through her answer and his face had been getting progressively smugger at seeing her lose her cool. "You can fucking well have one. Oh and do not call me Closwald."

"Excellent, love a good fight to the death!" the Doctor straightened and then stood, twirling slightly before producing a piece of paper from his pocket. "That's the address Closwald," he added deliberately as she burned a hole in his chest with her eyes. "Oh what are you going to do?" he asked smugly. "Kill me? Anyway, come alone, tomorrow night at midnight. In twenty seven hours. If I see Jake, or anyone else, I will kill Dave. We clear?"

"Why tomorrow?" she probed, raising an eyebrow, desperately finding the urge within her to step in and strangle him with his own bow tie. "Why not tonight?"

"Because," he gestured wildly and smiled warmly. "I'm a dramatist. I love a show. And besides, it gives me time to prepare and you time to…well it gives you time to sweat on what horrible, dreadful things I could be doing to your father. I might show him that video of the one time we…" Clara wanted to vomit. "Or I might not. That's private after all. Our little, intimate moments, shall we say, deserve to stay between us Clara. It's not as if either of us will ever forget the time we spent together."

He leaned in and breathed in her ear and Clara's entire body was screaming to hit him as hard as she could. For her father. She was enduring it for her father. Then the Doctor kissed her cheek and for a brief moment, she felt everything she was missing coming back to her, before she crashed back into reality, like a bucket of cold water had been poured over her head. She could feel bile rising in her throat and she swirled so that she was staring the Doctor dead in the eyes.

"I am going to break every single bone in your fucking pathetic body and then I'm going to blow your heart out, the way that you blew out mine," she informed him, her voice wobbling. "And unlike you, I'll make sure to do it properly."

"I'm sure you will Clara," he replied, patronisingly, nodding as if he was agreeing with a three year old who had told him that they were going to be an astronaut and go to Mars. "You know, I really do miss you. The smell of your hair, the touch of your skin," he sounded almost remorseful and then he sighed and shook his head. "It really is a shame that you have to die Clara, we could've been perfect together." He kissed the top of her head and walked out of the bar. And when he was gone, Clara realised that she had started crying.

* * *

If Jake had stopped her acting differently when he had returned from his little toilet trip then he didn't comment on it and she didn't comment on his not commenting, they just carried on drinking, not saying anything of any consequence. She preferred it that way, it gave no quarter for him to find out about the Doctor's intrusion. She didn't sleep even slightly that night, though that had been the point of the bar trip in the first place. She didn't know how or even want to know how the Doctor had found them, but he was everywhere and the thought terrified her.

All she could think about was the fight. She knew it was a trap, it had to be, but she couldn't just abandon her father. Nevertheless, she wasn't ready to take the Doctor at his word. The next day, she would head home, head to see if her father was where he was supposed to be. The night was long and seemed to take even longer as Clara tossed and turned, hoping by some miracle that she would drop off. And when she got up eventually, around five am to train, from there, the hours seemed to trickle by, like each individual grain of sand in an hourglass, taunting her with how long it was taking.

Every punch she threw felt lethargic, every kick predictable and no matter how hard she pushed herself, she couldn't bring herself to believe that she'd win. This was the Doctor. He had her number. He knew her too well. He had seen inside her soul, he was going to take her apart. Clara knew that he had been right. He'd given her time to sweat and he was already inside her head and whilst he was there, she couldn't beat him. She had to believe in herself. Jake had always said that the Doctor's greatest strength was his mind and that was proving the case now. He could win this fight before it had even begun, if Clara let him.

All she could think about, all day, was how to win. How to fight the Doctor and how to kill the Doctor. It probed away at the recesses of her mind as she ate, as she bathed, as she trained and when she finally got into the TARDIS to go and check on her father.

She hadn't wanted to believe it. More than anything, she had been hoping that the Doctor was lying to her, that her father would be there when she arrived. But she searched the whole of the village, keeping to the shadows, hiding her head under a hood and she knew that the Doctor had probably been telling the truth. It wasn't as if he needed to lie. Coming to this small little village and kidnapping a lonely old man would not require a lot of effort on his part. Nevertheless, Clara didn't want to believe it. So she scoured every inch of the village, until she was stood outside the house where her father lived, wishing with all of her heart that he was inside.

Clara rapped on the front door. Every second that there was no response filled her heart increasingly with dread. After a solid minute, she pulled her sonic out of her pocket and used it to unlock the door, stepping inside and calling out for her father. She knew that she shouldn't be doing this, that he thought that she was dead, but protecting him was her number one priority. "Daddy!" she yelled at the top of her lungs, but of course there was no response.

She checked the entire house, from top to bottom, but the Doctor had cleared up after himself well, there was no sign at all that he had been there. Clara was angry, but also terrified and she let the fear for her father spur her on as she crashed up and down the stairs. There was nothing. She was just going to have to play into the Doctor's hands.

As she took the TARDIS back to base, it seemed to Clara that time itself was standing still, slowing to the point where every second seemed to last a lifetime. She trained a little more and she could feel Jake's eyes burning on her as she did so. He was walking over and Clara didn't look up, she just carried on punching.

"You should take a break," Jake said gently, the softness of his voice startling Clara.

"No," she replied breathlessly, another volley of punches crashing into the moving bag.

"Yes!" his voice was delicate but firm and he stepped between her and the bag. "You need to break Clara, when was the last time that you actually slept?"

She ignored his question pointedly, because she knew that he wouldn't like the answer. Clara never slept anymore, she didn't need sleep. She could sleep when the Doctor was dead and not before. She wanted to carry on punching, but Jake was stood strategically between her and the bag. She bit her lip and stared at him.

"Jake," she started but he cut her off.

"Clara," he replied. "You want to take down the Doctor. That's understandable. But you have to let me deal with it."

"I'm sorry?" Clara's eyes turned to daggers. "I'm letting you deal with approximately jack shit. The Doctor wronged me just as much as he hurt you or Rory or River and I have no intention of sitting back and watching you do it yourself. Besides, you'll need me. Daleks, the Master…"

"The Daleks and the Master are fine!" he insisted, his voice slipping. "But leave the Doctor to me. Please, Clara, I'm begging you."

"No," she replied angrily. "I am going to kill him Jake and there's nothing you can do to stop me. Why? Is it because I'm a girl, is it because you don't think I'm capable, is it because you think that-"

"It's because I care about you!" Jake shouted and Clara stopped dead in her tracks. "Clara, you are one of a few people left on this earth that I still care for, even a little bit. You and Rory and River, you three are the only people that I have left. And I won't let the Doctor take away who you are. And if you kill him, then you let him do that. I let him rob you of everything that you are, until you're not Clara Oswald anymore, but some mindless, vengeful killer. And I will not let that happen. But me? I'm too far gone. I think my soul is black enough already to take one more vengeance killing. The Doctor is mine, because I am the only one who can kill him without sinking to his level. Because I'm already there."

Clara was stunned by this. She had to admit, she hadn't realised that he cared, even a little bit. He'd never showed a lot of affection for her, it was just his way and now she realised why. He didn't think that he was worthy of affection and she was too good for his. Her friendship was a commodity that Jake Hunt could never truly appreciate, because he didn't believe himself worthy of it. But, regardless of his speech, Clara knew what she had to do. She had already lost who she was and the Doctor had taken it from her, he had turned her into something else and the only way to take back who she was, was to take it back from the Doctor. Besides, she had to save her father. If nothing else, she couldn't abandon the man who raised her, who made her who she was, who had stood by her after the loss of her mum as best he could, even if he'd never been perfect.

"Jake," Clara said as calmly as she could. "I can't sleep. I can't stop thinking about him. Every moment of my life since he left has become a battle to get him out of my mind, my heart and my soul. But he's there. He's always there, taunting me at every step. I cannot go on, I cannot let go. You don't want the Doctor to change me but it's too late for that. I loved him and he played me and like it or not, he fucked with me. And I need to fuck with him back."

"Clara…" Jake's voice was different, like he actually meant what he was saying for once. "I don't want you to lose yourself. It's not too late."

"You're right," Clara agreed. "It's not. The Doctor thinks he's ruined me. I'm going to ruin him and then I'll find myself. I may not be the same person that I was when this mess started, but I'll still be Clara Oswald and right now, being Clara Oswald is the only thing that that fucking shit bag hasn't taken from me."

Jake opened his mouth to reply, but she was still standing there, glaring at him. And then he did something very un-Jakelike. He pulled her into a massive hug, which she awkwardly reciprocated for a moment before he broke it and stood there awkwardly for a moment.

"See this is why I don't show affection," he grumbled. "You're too fucking short to hug properly." Clara giggled despite herself. "I'll find him Clara," Jake said. Clara tried not to let her eyes betray her. "I promise."

* * *

Night had fallen. There wasn't long left now. Clara felt nerves rising up within her as she watched the minutes tick by, closer and closer to her meeting with the Doctor. She didn't know how it was going to go, but she would either kill him or die trying and that gave her a certain closure that if nothing else managed to calm her. Clara prepared herself mentally and tried to grab a couple of hours of sleep, but she was so pumped up, so nervous and so desperate for it to be over, that she couldn't sleep a wink.

Eventually, eleven pm came and went and it was almost time. Clara dressed in her black gear, combat ready and she did something that she'd never done before. She took a gun. It didn't matter how much she loathed them, she would always loathe the Doctor more. She slipped it into the waistband of her trousers and took a deep breath. The seconds ticked on and on, every moment bringing her closer and closer to the fight. And then, it was time.

She stepped into the TARDIS, typed the coordinates and re-emerged outside an abandoned, old and decrepit warehouse. She knew that this had all the makings of a trap, but she walked inside nevertheless.

Inside was nothing but a vast open space, filled with steel pipes and girders. There was a balcony, high above everything else and the Doctor was stood up there, a huge smile on his face. He straightened his bow tie and jumped down, strolling over to Clara, who was still tentative to act, knowing that her dad could still be in danger.

"My father?" she demanded, her teeth gritted. She was having none of it, not now. The Doctor would die, her father would be safe and everything would work itself out. There was no way. The Doctor chuckled to himself.

"Oh yes, your father." The Doctor shrugged. "I killed him. He was being awfully loud and well I didn't really need him alive, because I knew what a good little girl would be even without proof that he was alive, so I killed him. If you don't believe me, look up."

Clara looked above her and sure enough, directly above her, her father was strapped to a girder used to keep the ceiling intact, his head separated from his body and Clara felt her heart drop out of her stomach and the only thing stopping her vomiting was the Doctor. She pulled out the gun, aimed it squarely at the Doctor's head. And before he could say anything smart, she pulled the trigger.


	21. Chapter 21: To The Death

***Hey guys! I feel like complete and utter shit because alcohol, so I'll make this brief. Clara and the Doctor fight to the death, massive thanks to the amazing Chantelle, thank you so much for reading, following, reviewing and favouriting and I really hope you enjoy it. Please review TPD***

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Clara pulled out the gun, aimed it squarely at the Doctor's head. And before he could say anything smart, she pulled the trigger. If the Doctor was surprised by Clara's actions, he didn't show it, moving quickly to dodge the bullet. But Clara had been expecting that, she'd known which way he'd dodge and she crossed the distance between them, slamming the butt of the gun into his fucking huge chin. The sound of the Doctor's jaw crumpling was music to Clara's ears and made her feel elated. The Doctor staggered and Clara pressed the advantage, slamming a couple of punches to his rib cage. Each strike felt beautiful, the feeling of his bone colliding with her knuckles sending a shudder of pleasure rocketing through Clara.

Then, her joy was replaced by pain as the Doctor retaliated, a bullet like shoulder breaking Clara's nose. She felt blood pouring as she pulled her guard up, deflecting a couple of blows, her head spinning as she stumbled backwards, letting the Doctor waste his energy battering her defences. She took a moment and then moved further away from him, leading to a natural break in the fight. The Doctor was prowling as they circled each other, his breathing heavy. Clara's face ached and she kept inhaling blood as her body worked to seal the wound. She could see the Doctor doing likewise, they were both summoning up the energy to go again after their initial bout. She kept the gun trained on him but she doubted he'd fall for the same trick twice.

Then he moved and she unloaded the gun, firing a hailstorm of bullets at him as he came at her, but he weaved left and right to dodge them and then they collided. Clara ducked his first punch, caught his second and stepped over his snapping kick at her legs and then rocked a punch into his jaw. Every time she hit the Doctor, she felt fresh waves of happiness moving through her and as he flailed slightly, she pressed home the advantage, energy rising up out in her and she fired a ball of energy at his chest. He was already moving and there was distance between them now as he fired back.

Clara moved left and right, returning fire but they both knew that this wasn't going to last long. They were both firing at each other and neither one of them was going to hit the other. They pressed the distance again, every breath ragged. She could see the sweat rolling down his forehead, the darkness in his eyes. He straightened his bow tie and when he did, she went for him. She barrelled into him rugby tackle style to force him to the ground, but he didn't fall, only took a few steps back to regain his balance and then brought his hands down on her back.

Clara yelled in pain as his hands crashed into her spine and she pushed harder, causing him to lose his balance and they went tumbling, all limbs and energy. Clara felt him slam an elbow into her and she was thrown off on him. Clara sprawled against the dirt, not taking her eyes off of the Doctor for a second. He picked himself up and she followed suit.

The fight was still getting warmed up, these preliminary bouts nothing more than a minor test of each other's technique. The Doctor was grinning but Clara wasn't. Her face was covered in dried blood, but she was otherwise unharmed, though her back felt a bit sore. The Doctor looked fine, and she was infuriated that she hadn't broken anything yet. She was holding back and she didn't know why. She didn't know why he was either, but neither of them was fully willing to go for the other and it infuriated her. Was there some piece of her that still harboured…feelings for him? Or was it something else? A reluctance to sink to his level perhaps? She needed to work it out, because if the Doctor stepped up his game, she was toast. She rolled up her sleeves, he removed his tweed and cricked his neck.

"You killed my father," she told him, as much reminding herself as him and he seemed to find this amusing, as he smiled wickedly at her.

"You do seem to love pointing out the obvious," he noted. "It's a very human trait in you Clara, you're very prone to them. Never mind, I can fix it so that there's no human left to have traits. It's not too late Clara," he warned her. "Surrender to me now and your transition to the next life will be quick and merciful, the way that Daddy's was."

"Now why would I want a peaceful death?" she quizzed. "When I can have a less than peaceful life and inflict on you the most painful death I can think of?"

"Come on then," he goaded her. "Come and have a go. I dare you. You're still scared of me, scared of what I can do to you. Little Clara, the girl from Blackpool, so dependent on Mummy. Well Mummy's dead Clara, she died, gutted like a stuck pig and she's not here to save you this time." He was trying to trick her into acting rashly and Clara needed to get her head clear before she could consider going for the Doctor again. "You know you should give up and join Mummy and Daddy. You'll never be able to do Mummy proud, never be the big girl that she hoped that you would be. After all, you can't even make a fucking soufflé."

He won. Clara snapped, running for him, rage blinding her to the obvious, which was that they had been moving closer and closer to the pile of girders. Clara didn't see him move, but she did see the girder out of the corner of her eye, the huge long, thick piece of metal that the Doctor had swung. It was too late for her to move, as time worked in slow motion. She needed to get to him before the girder got to her. It would take her less than a second to be close enough to touch him, but the girder was faster and Clara felt every rib in the left cage snap as she went flying, the girder lifting her off of her feet.

He even got the satisfaction of hearing her scream, the writhing in her chest too much to bear as she felt her body trying to compensate for the carnage that the girder had caused to her side. She went flying and then she felt her back slamming into the wall of the warehouse, which cracked and dented and Clara was pretty sure that she was going to bring the entire thing down on top of them. Her vertebrae just about held and she forced herself to ignore the fact that she was pretty sure her entire torso was collapsing under her. She had never known pain like it, but that was another thing that she had to disregard. She couldn't afford to lose consciousness now, even for a second, or she was dead. So despite her dizziness, still reeling from the initial impact, she knew what she had to do, as the Doctor was coming at her like a speeding freight train. Move.

So Clara moved, the same instant that she hit the wall, she threw herself to the side, so that the Doctor slammed into the wall of the warehouse, which creaked alarmingly. Clara slammed her forehead, the only part of her that she could get enough force into, into the Doctor's face as he turned to her and as his nose broke the same way as hers had earlier and she got the same grim rush of elation that he must've done.

The Doctor still had the upper hand and he knew it. Clara backed off, willing her legs to keep moving, every single step a triumph as the Doctor closed in. She was like a boxer teetering on the ropes, desperate for a few seconds free of the flurry of blows. One more good punch and she would be down and she would probably never wake up. Clara kept breathing, kept her heart pumping as her body fought against the agony and the broken bones and the blood loss and just kept her functioning, kept her moving away from the Doctor in the moments as he recovered from his face slamming.

The sight of blood and anger on his stupid face made Clara smile, allowing herself the extra movement despite the fact that she couldn't really afford to lose any energy, even the negligible amount it took for her lips to twitch upwards. As he stepped in to finish her, she acted on instinct. She couldn't take any more hits, but she could still dish them out and with every second that the Doctor was on the defensive, she felt her vision becoming less blurry, the numbness in her chest overwhelming the pain more and her manoeuvrability improving.

Her fist connected with the Doctor's jaw and this time his giant chin broke, the shattering noise making Clara laugh at loud, spitting blood into the Doctor's face as a result and his look of pure shock made the moment all the more sweeter. Clara smirked but didn't let up. He brought his hands up defensively, so she crashed the fist into his shoulder and as he tried to compensate, she hammered her knee into his balls, so that he cried out in pain. The pathetic whimpering that came from his mouth as he fell to his knees was so good Clara wanted to capture it on tape and replay it on repeat. Clara went to finish him, her boot inches from his already fragile jaw when he reached up, caught it and snapped her ankle.

She had to admit, that that smarted, sending fresh, blinding agony to her leg as she pulled away. She hobbled back as he desperately tried to get to his feet. They were both too wary of the other to press home their potential advantage and they were both in a bad way. Clara eyed him up, watching as he tried to move his jaw, hoping that it would take his body a while to heal, so she wouldn't have to listen to him yammering on and on. He looked like he was weighing up saying something smart and, feeling the state of his face, decided against it.

Clara knew that this couldn't go on. Her entire body was screaming, desperately finding energy reserves that it didn't know it had; she was pretty much running on adrenaline. Her ribs were tender as hell, as they desperately tried to heal to protect her increasingly vulnerable vital organs. It had left her other areas, her broken nose, her snapped ankle, to fend for themselves, so the splitting headache that she'd picked up head-butting the Doctor was going nowhere and was, in truth, the least of her problems.

There was a moment, where they both stood, admiring each other's handiwork. The Doctor looked angry, in pain, but strangely amused. She hoped one of his testicles had lodged itself in his intestines. He staggered slightly and she knew she'd hurt him. The knowledge made every blow that she had taken that little bit less painful.

He nodded appreciatively, and she knew their break was over. They were tussling again and this time, it was fiercer, more intimate. They'd both broken the other, now they were going for the kill. But their technique was giving way at the same time. Every punch that the Doctor failed to land made the next one more sloppy and every kick that Clara aimed at him became more and more tired.

She moved in so close that she could feel his breath on her neck and she shuddered as she punched his gut. He retaliated and they went down, rolling and grappling in the dirt, their fight no longer between two trained killers, but between two petulant five year olds playing in the mud in their parents back garden. They were rolling now, biting, scratching, punching, pulling hair. Each time her back slammed into the dirt, Clara's only instinct was to get back on top and put her hands around the Doctor's throat. But every time she pushed him off, he came back stronger and neither one of them could win this battle for supremacy, they were too evenly-matched.

She threw him off for the hundredth time and then she rolled away through the dirt, almost too exhausted to carry on. She picked herself up one last time, ready to go again, because there was no other choice left open to her. The only thing that stopped her from breaking down, from hitting the floor and crying, was when she looked up and saw her father, staring back at her and she reminded herself who she was fighting and why. Clara was swaying, every sinew, muscle and fibre in her body ready to give in and die but she had to keep going.

"You know Clara," the Doctor rasped, his voice thick and heavy through his battered jaw. "We really are superbly evenly matched. I think that this fight is almost destined to end as a tie. Wouldn't that be somewhat poetic, if we died together?" Clara didn't respond. She had no intention of giving him the satisfaction of her dying. "We're like too football teams," he analysed and Clara rolled her eyes, grateful for the extra few seconds to recover. "Every time one of us scores, the other hits back instantly. A football match, between two teams, so equally matched, is almost always decided on a mistake, or a piece of brilliance, but there's another factor that you fail to consider. The crowd. See I'm the home team Clara, and we have a crowd."

She almost laughed. That was his plan? To bring in a bunch of lackeys to help him win? She shook her head in disappointment. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. The Doctor, the great Doctor, who had sworn her a fight to the death, was going to call for help. But then she saw the look on his face and it wasn't funny anymore. There was a sound. Outside the warehouse, in the black, a sound echoed. A noise that was high-pitched and shrill. She couldn't pick out what it was, but it was getting louder and louder. The noise was a voice or a collection of voices, hard and edged and screaming, almost mechanical. And then, she realised what this plethora of voices were shrieking.

"EXTERMINATE. EXTERMINATE. EXTERMINATE."

The sound came over and over again and now the Doctor was laughing. Clara went for him, but he was already moving away from her, climbing towards the balcony and she had much more terrifying problems to worry about. She turned towards the entrance of the warehouse, where the screaming monstrosities had collated. There were perhaps a dozen of them and she recognised them instantly. Their distinctive, dome-like shape, but jutting out at the front. The brown and bronze panels, filled with what looked like spheres. Their weapons may have looked like what Clara would use to bake soufflés, but coupled with the Doctor's taunts about her soufflé making abilities, that just made them more horrifying. And the single, blue eye, staring directly at her from the end of their long eyestalk. These were the things that she had seen Saxon developing. Even without their reputation, the Daleks were the most terrifying creatures that Clara had ever seen.

"EXTERMINATE!"

"Take her alive," the Doctor commanded above her and Clara frowned, confused. "She's already sprung the trap, it's too late for her to escape."

"I thought this was a fight to the death!" she demanded up at him and he laughed in her face. "So what, you never intended to kill me?"

"My dear Clara," the Doctor chuckled. "You came here to kill me. But I don't want you to die. Oh no, we have big plans for you. Very big plans indeed. Take her."

Clara whipped round and the Daleks were advancing. She was completely cornered and she was waiting. Waiting for Jake or River to turn up, to reveal that they'd known where she was going and weren't going to let her die. This was usually the moment in films where the protagonist got lucky and was rescued. The Doctor was allowed cavalry, so why the hell wasn't she? Clara felt despair washing over her, but forced herself to stay calm. Nobody was coming to save her; she would have to save herself. Clara moved, firing off shots with what little remained of her energy, but her shots were powerless, lacking in thrust, bouncing off every Dalek that they collided with. There was no way out, no happy ending. Clara wasn't capable of saving herself.

The Daleks fired back and that was when Clara realised how in over her head she was. Dodging one or two shots was easy, but when they came in swathes of five or six, with five or six following instantly afterwards, was nigh on impossible. When the first shot hit her, it reinvented pain. She thought that she had known what it felt like to die, but when the Dalek shot her, she wished for death, begged for it. And she begged aloud, all thoughts of defying the Doctor shifting to nothing as she felt what hell would surely feel like.

And then she could walk again, she could move again, her death only feeling temporary as she staggered back into the real world, dodging and moving and refusing to give in. Until the next shot hit her and she died again, her entire body roasting like a barbeque and she could feel her cells dying, her brain giving in, her heart stopping. After the second Dalek shot connected, Clara fell to her knees, her hair swirling as a protective curtain around her face.

"Please?" she begged, tears streaming down her face, looking up at the circle of Daleks, who were so utterly devoid of mercy that she might as well be begging the warehouse itself. There was no emotion in their cold, blue eyes as they narrowed slightly and looked up at the Doctor, who waved his hand and then they returned their attention to Clara.

At least the third shot only hurt for a moment, before Clara's entire world turned to black.


	22. Chapter 22: Captured

***Hey troops. Fair warning, this chapter is not kind to Clara, it's pretty grim. I wanted to really really push her beyond her limits here, so that what happens next makes more sense. In any case, I hope you guys enjoy it. Thanks, as ever to the wonderful Chantelle for all her help and thank you so much to all my lovely readers, reviewers, followers and favouriters! TPD***

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Clara woke to excruciating pain in every part of her body. When she tried to move, it was as if somebody had tied her to an electric fence and left her there for six hours. She moaned softly as she opened her eyes, hoping to at least examine her situation, even if there was nothing that she could do about it. She was strung up, like a piñata, all four of her limbs chained in place so that she couldn't move any of them and she had a metal neck brace, that clung to her, cutting off her air supply slightly, the metal cold and biting against her skin. Her body felt like it had been broken, everything was refusing to do what she wanted it to and it felt flimsy, like she had been turned to mush inside.

The cell that she was being held in was circular and definitely contained a power dampening field, which was why she couldn't heal herself. Her body had been ripped apart by the trauma of the Dalek attack and it couldn't rejuvenate itself, her energy and power out of her reach, being stopped from connecting with her by the field that surrounded her. The energy field she was trapped in was a lime green colour, giving the outside world an odd greenish hue, but there wasn't much of an outside world to see, just a blank, empty space ahead of her, though if she had been able to twist her head, she would have been able to see a wall of computers, which controlled the field.

Nevertheless, through the green murk, it was very clear to her exactly who the man stood in front of her was, his tweed jacket unbuttoned, his bow tie straight, the smile on his face every bit as mocking as she remembered it to be. Clara snarled at the Doctor, as her facial expressions were the only thing that she still had some semblance of control over. He chuckled at her and the way that he dismissed her made her blood boil. She was so tired, so broken, barely able to breathe and not able to do a lot else, but every part of her that could still fight, was looking at the Doctor with unbridled hatred. He was still smiling in response, a deadly reminder to Clara of who was in charge.

"Clara," he said, causing her to shudder as much as she could. She hated when he said her name. "Ah good, you're finally awake, I've been waiting for you to snap out of that annoying coma that you insisted on going into." He said it like her almost dying was an inconvenience to him. "How're you feeling?"

"I'd be feeling a lot better," Clara croaked, her voice at least holding fairly firm as she spat venomously at the Doctor. "If you got rid of the dampening field."

He laughed in her face, as she had expected him to. Her defiance was nothing more than a show and they both knew it. Clara could growl and snarl and play act like he hadn't broken her spirit all she wanted. It didn't matter. He didn't need to break her spirit. He'd already broken her body and he had broken her heart and very soon, Clara's spirit would join both of them. The Doctor had won. And he knew it too. He took a step closer to her and shook his head disapprovingly at something. Clara struggled against her chains but it was all just part of an act that the Doctor wasn't buying.

"Green isn't your colour," he surmised thoughtfully. "I think you'd look prettier with red mood lighting, don't you?"

For a moment, Clara was terrified that he meant red with her blood and she panicked, grappling harder with the chains and in that moment, she must have looked every bit the scared little girl missing her mother that she felt inside, for the Doctor looked elated as he flicked a switch and the energy field hummed slightly as Clara's green view of the world shifted to a deep russet. She allowed herself a sigh of relief, but the damage had been done. The Doctor knew he could torment her at will.

"There," he nodded appreciatively and Clara felt her heart hammering weakly in her chest. "That's better, you look lovely. Nothing but the best for my Clara." Every time he said her name it only added to her torture and she wanted to scream and to hear it used in such a possessive way only made her angrier, more upset and more distressed. Especially knowing that it was the truth. She was his now, his play thing and there was nothing that she could do to stop him.

"What do you want?" she asked weakly, her voice tired, beaten and she had almost given in to this psychopath. "Please, Doctor, just…" She was close to crying now and she knew it. She had almost completely abandoned hope of fighting him, he had her so well placed. "Tell me what you're going to do to me."

"Well," the Doctor was pacing lightly, clasping his hands side by side and gesturing as he spoke. But there was something different about him and it had taken Clara a while to notice it. She had clocked the swagger and she had noted the facial changes. But it was just something off about the way that he carried himself that made her question whether or not she had missed something important.

"Clara," he continued, every time he used her name it was like he was marking her, burning his stamp onto her. "You're going to be my prisoner for a few days. Frustrating I know, but it turns out I captured you a little bit early. Not entirely my fault, things back at HQ are behind schedule. The Master's busting some skulls, literally of course; otherwise nothing would ever get done. But suffice to say, the Master will be here in a few days. He's just laying the groundwork for our Oswin Project."

"What's the Oswin Project?" Clara demanded, her confidence returning slightly and she hoped that he wouldn't see the need to strip her of it in some humiliating fashion. He looked like he was deeply considering it and Clara stared him down, determined not to flinch. The Doctor let it slide.

"The Oswin Project…" the Doctor began, before pausing for dramatic effect. "Is you. You are Oswin. Or rather you will be Oswin. I promised you that I would remove the human from you, and that is exactly what I intend to do. You will become the leader, the ruler and the biological template for a new race of super Daleks, which are vastly more powerful and intelligent than their predecessors. And you will be beautiful."

Clara felt her heart filling with dread and she wanted to throw up. He looked so happy with himself, so pleased that his little plans were all coming together and she desperately tried to join the dots in her head but none of it made sense.

"You tried to kill me?" she reminded him, desperately trying to save face but failing increasingly with every passing second as he got closer to her, his smile filling her vision and all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and cry. "Why would you do that if you needed me to be your Oswin, your biological template?"

"We were originally going to use Jake Hunt," the Doctor informed her, turning away from her, almost giving her a breather from the sight of his face, a chance to recover and prepare herself for the next sighting of it. "After all, he is the most genetically superior human in existence and also the easiest to convert, as he is the closest to holding a Dalek temperament. But then everything changed. You survived. You survived when by all of our calculations, you shouldn't have stood a chance. You came back from the dead, Clara and you came back with a sole purpose, to kill me. Don't you see? That anger, all of that hatred, coupled with that incredible instinct to survive. That's so very…Dalek. And we knew that you had to be the one. That you were the perfect Dalek template."

Clara felt bile rush to her throat and she was physically sick, the sick hovering in the energy field for a moment before it flew out and the Doctor casually side-stepped it, giving her a look like she was below him for it. Clara was so close to crying, but she completely refused to let him win so completely. She had to hold on to what little she had left.

"So when the Master gets here," the Doctor continued. "You will be taken to the Dalek conversion units. We will strip away what remains of your love, what remains of your humanity and we will leave you a broken shell, angry, full of hate but desperate to survive. I don't know if you noticed Closwald…" She shuddered at the pet-name. "But you're already two-thirds of the way there. Anyway, you will be inputted into the system and you will be fully converted into Dalek form. We will strip away your genetic code and replicate it, so that you will have a race of Oswin Daleks under your command and then, we will unleash you on the world. You see, we're saving Earth for last. Once our Dalek army is complete and oh are we close, we will subjugate the galaxy and keep spreading until there is nothing left to behold that isn't under our command. And then, we shall set you, our greatest creation, on the Earth. And you will kill all the beloved humans that you have fought so hard to protect. You will kill all of your friends, your family, everyone and everything that you once loved. And you will know that you are doing it. And you will love every second of it."

"No," Clara whispered and he frowned. "No. No, I won't. I would rather die. I would rather kill myself in this cell, self-combust, let the power rip me apart, I will do whatever it takes to deny you Doctor, and I will die knowing that I put a giant wrench in your plans."

"Oh Clara," he chuckled, reaching his hand through the energy field to cup her cheek. She tried to move her face away from him but she couldn't, she was powerless to stop his thumb rubbing her skin the way that he used to and reminding her of all those moments that she had loved him. It broke her and she required every single sinew of energy left in her body not to let him see her cry. "Even if you could, which you can't, then what would that serve? All you'd be doing is denying me one pleasure but granting me another. I'd be able to use Jake instead, which would give me just as much pleasure. There is no escaping this, but if there was my dear, all you'd be doing is taking the coward's way out and passing the honour of being the new Supreme Dalek onto someone else. And let's face it, Clara Oswin Oswald has a certain ring to it that Jake Oswin Hunt just doesn't."

He kissed her now, on the cheek, moving closer to her mouth and now Clara did cry, because there was nothing else to do but cry because he had her so completely and utterly trumped, and there was no way out. Jake had spent weeks, months hunting him and had gotten nowhere. He wasn't coming to save her. And even if he did, then what? The Doctor was more than a match for her, the Master had humiliated Jake and they had a Dalek army on their side. Even assuming that he arrived in time to stop Clara being converted. It was hopeless. And then the Doctor's mouth met hers and she was screaming, begging him to stop, but she was drowned out by his lips and then he broke away and Clara was sobbing.

"Please," she begged, her voice broken, her head hanging and she couldn't look at his face any longer, because that permanent, evil smirk still stood upon it. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I'm enjoying it," he replied, his voice taking on a sinister tone. "I enjoy you Clara, you are good fun to play with. Watching you break would have been enough, but knowing that I'm the one who broke you just makes it so much more satisfying. But don't worry, it'll all be over soon. Once the Master gets here, you can embrace your inner Dalek and join us at the forefront of a new world."

Clara had no response, because there were no words left to describe how she felt. She could feel the tears streaming down her face but she had no control over them. Her thoughts had all become a muddle and when she closed her eyes, the Doctor's smug face was still there, his quiff and his bow tie immaculate. It seemed so long ago that she had been able to enjoy that moment where his chin smashed.

The next couple of days were as close to hell as Clara could ever experience. The Doctor didn't visit much but Clara was grateful for that. About half a day into her stay, she realised that she needed to pee. She'd spent a good ten minutes calling for help and asking what she should do before she realised what the Doctor wanted her to do. She held it in as long as she could and then eventually, with no alternative, she lost the last few shreds of her dignity and she pissed herself, so that her cell was now freshly adorned with the smell of her own urine to go alongside the vomit and blood. She wasn't fed either, so her body had begun to shut down. But she knew that that was a grace in a way. She stopped feeling the power that was always inches from her grasp, always teasing her by being so agonisingly close. If she could touch it, just for a moment, it would infect her, zoom in and heal everything, give her strength again, the strength to fight back. All she needed was a moment.

And that was the worst thing about it. Knowing that if she could be free for just an instant, or not even free, but if the field went down, she could access her power, shatter the chains, flood her body with adrenaline and snap the Doctor's neck. When he did come to see her, he remarked on her inability to control her bladder and teased her like she was a naughty puppy. He made Clara beg for some dignity and she did. The field extended, so that she no longer needed to pee and she was grateful for that, which made her hate the Doctor even more for it, because the small comfort had cost her yet another small piece of her autonomy.

After three days, they came for her, just like they promised that they would. Clara was just about ready to give in. Just about ready to die, just about ready to accept that she would live out the rest of her days as a monster. Worse, as a Dalek. And then she saw their faces, the Doctor and the Master, side by side and the last depths of rage and defiance sprang up within her. She was not going to let them see her beaten. Even if she could wipe the Doctor's smile away by staring him in the eye angrily, then that would have to be enough. It was all the victory that she had left. The Master looked more amused than his counterpart.

"So," he said cheerfully, his horribly kind tone matching perfectly onto the Doctor's cruel one. "This is the great Clara Oswald in all of her glory. You smell like something that the cat dragged in through about six hedges."

"Yeah well I'm not impressed by you either," Clara snapped back. "If truth be told."

The Master laughed and once again, her defiance was met by mocking. They weren't going to beat the defiance out of her, they were going to ignore it. They knew how to play games with her mind. They weren't going to let her see the only weapons that she had against them even register on their radar and she was so powerless to stop them, that even her taunts weren't going to wipe the smiles off of their faces.

"You know," the Master continued. "My friend here spoke so highly of you Clara. But then he also spoke highly of Jake Hunt and I dismantled him with far too much ease, so maybe his recommendations are just generally poor. Or do you disagree Miss Oswald?"

"I think," she replied. "That whatever the Doctor has told you about me is nothing compared to what I'm capable of. Or what Jake is capable of. And he's coming for you Saxon, so I wouldn't get too comfy where you are."

"The Doctor?!" the Master frowned and turned to the Doctor. "She still thinks that you're the Doctor?"

"I wanted you to see the look on her face when I told her," the Doctor replied with a smirk.

"What do you mean?" Clara demanded. "He's the Doctor! Of course he's the Doctor."

There was a chorus of laughter and Clara struggled defiantly, desperate for an answer. Her heart was alive again, every part of her body redoubling its efforts to fight back. Her brain was whirring. The Doctor. Her Doctor. He might still be alive. He could still save her. She looked at the man who wasn't the Doctor and then she looked at the Master and hope was replaced by a growing dread as she realised that they were still very amused by the whole thing.

"I'm not the Doctor," the man who wasn't the Doctor replied. "Oh no, we have the Doctor locked away somewhere safe, just like we do with you. And the first thing we're going to do when we've converted you, our first test run of your loyalties and capabilities. Will be to kill him."


	23. Chapter 23: Fighting Back

***Hey guys! So I've been playing with you for a few chapters now. So here we go. This is it. The gloves are off. Play time is over. I hope you enjoy it! As ever, massive thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited and special thanks to the amazing Chantelle, who has been an invaluable asset whilst writing this story! 4 to go after this! TPD***

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Clara's heart had stopped. She felt like she was dying, everything had slowed to a standstill and there were no words to describe how she was feeling. She couldn't cope with this, knowing that the Doctor, her Doctor, was somewhere close, somewhere nearby, safe and probably waiting for her to come and save him, yet she was trapped and unable to do anything to help him or herself. Tears were stinging her eyes again and every part of her body battled the containment field, wrestling with the fact that she was so close to freedom and yet that power was still just beyond her fingertips. Then another sickening thought hit her. What if they had kidnapped him before he fell in love with her? What if her Doctor, the man that she loved, didn't remember her, had never actually met her? Would that kill her? She didn't care if it meant that he was safe. She needed him to be safe. She strained more, but the two men were simply watching her and laughing.

"Who are you?" Clara yelled, snarling at the man who was not her Doctor. "Who are you and what did you do to the Doctor?" There was no answer, just smirks. "Tell me."

"I recruited him," the Master started and Clara's eyes snapped to him. "About a year back, I found him on a planet you've probably never heard of, very far away. His people are…well they are susceptible, like dough. They're dough for life. You can superimpose a life onto them. All of it, as long as you have the correct genetic template. They have no real form of their own; they have to be connected to a body in order to have life. So this one, designation Z.Y.G.O.N or as he likes to call himself Mr Clever, was a particularly vindictive little shit and I thought he'd be perfect. I promised him a genetic template that was exceedingly intelligent and exceedingly powerful and he snapped up the chance. But it doesn't just absorb the body of the person who it is connected to."

Clara stopped breathing. She was shuddering, she couldn't cope. She needed to know what had become of the Doctor and whether it was him. Was it him or Mr Clever who she had fallen in love with, who she had slept with, who she had given herself to completely?

"It absorbs their mind," he continued. "The Doctor, locked away in his tank, hooked up to machines, his entire life superimposed onto Mr Clever, has no idea that he's there. I acquired him almost a year ago and since then, he's thought that he's in his body, running around, having adventures, sleeping with the beautiful Miss Clara. Only to be sent to sleep, when I instruct Mr Clever to come out and play, on special occasions. When I needed him to assassinate Harriet Jones, when I needed him to 'decipher' something, when I needed him to slip an incapacitation device into your birthday present and all along, the Doctor had no idea that he was doing my handiwork. He fell in love with you Clara, I can see that's what you want to hear. Which will make it all the more sweeter when you destroy him."

Clara was struggling to compose herself. This was a lot of new information to take in at once and she was wrestling with her emotions. Above all else, despite the looming dread and the fear and the anger, she was happy. She had hope. She couldn't believe that the Doctor was alive, that she still had a chance to see him again, for them both to make it out in one piece. She knew that the chances were slim, but having him with her gave her something to work with. And before the Master and Mr Clever had a chance to take away that hope, before either of them had a chance to hurt her any more than they already had, whilst the pieces of Clara's brain were still slotting into place, everything changed.

"ALERT! ALERT!" came a shrill, Dalek voice over the intercom and Mr Clever and the Master turned their heads towards the screens that Clara couldn't see, but could guess that were there judging by their reactions. "OUR OUTER DEFENCES HAVE BEEN BREACHED! OUTER DEFENCE BREACH! ALERT! ALER-!"

And then the Dalek screeched and fell silent, before another voice took up the mantle.

"Hello boys and girls!" Jake yelled and Clara's heart fluttered at the sound of his voice, the hope building in her and she gave Mr Clever, who had flicked his head in her direction, a defiant smirk. "Alright Saxon, you have someone that I consider to be very precious to me. And I suggest that you release her before this gets ugly. Or not. Well it's your choice. Oh. Shit!" Then she heard Dalek noises and explosions and then the line went dead.

"Oops," Clara laughed out loud, delight and relief filling her completely, burning inside her like an unquenchable fire. She was getting out of here and she was taking the Doctor with her. "Looks like you boys have a bit of a problem. I'd be very worried if I were you. You remember the last time Jake Hunt took on an army of Daleks right?"

"We are not afraid of Jake Hunt," Mr Clever snorted. And then there was an almighty explosion and Clara saw a large chunk of metal, which she assumed had been the door, come flying out of nowhere and collide with Mr Clever, knocking him off of his feet. Clara gave a very loud, very long laugh and then she heard Jake's voice echoing through the room.

"Okay gentlemen, let's just do this nice and easy. Doctor, Master, you hand me Clara and we'll leave you to your psychotic experimentations in piece. Nobody has to die today."

"Jake!" Clara screamed and he was surely looking at her, because she could hear him breathing slightly more heavily after a moment. "That's not the Doctor. It's a duplicate called Mr Clever. They have the real Doctor captured somewhere nearby, they're using him as some sort of genetic template for Mr Clever. We need to find him."

There was a pregnant pause. Mr Clever limped back into shot, his face all bloodshot and fury and he angrily straightened his bow tie. Clara felt white hot fury shoot through her at him for copying the Doctor's mannerism, but nothing else mattered now that she knew he was safe. The Master was stood beside Mr Clever and they were both weighing up their options.

"Okay," Jake said eventually and Clara strained her neck to try and catch sight of him, but she couldn't reach. "You hand over the Doctor and Clara to me and I'll let this little freak show go on unhindered. How does that sound?" There was no response. "Thought not. Alright, let's try a different tact. How the hell did you get your hands on Dalek DNA and technology?"

"Through me."

This voice was a new voice, flooding into the room and Clara could hear the noises of a screen activating and Jake letting out a gasp. She knew that someone new had entered the game and the Master was looking incredibly smug. The voice was scratchy, dark, shrill, almost like a Dalek voice in nature. It was somewhat soft, barely above a harsh whisper, but it had authority behind it, the power to silence anyone who disagreed with it. And she couldn't see Jake, but she could feel his shock and possibly even his fear.

"Davros," he muttered darkly, trying to hide his emotions and failing slightly. The name meant nothing to Clara, but clearly it meant something, more than something to Jake. She could feel his shaking. "I thought you were dead. The Daleks betrayed you and left you on Gallifrey to burn with the Gallifreyans. How the hell did you survive?"

"I was on the brink of death," Davros snarled. "I was desolate, wounded and left for dead by my own creations, those that I had built, cultivated and given life and power. I handed the Daleks the universe and they left me to rot. Then, I found a Gallifreyan, one who was laughing as his planet burned. He was stood amongst the flames, with hell raining from the sky and he was laughing, embracing it with the kind of sick, disillusioning insanity that I had come to crave. And he helped me escape. I told him that I could recreate the Daleks, rebuild them under his command, our command and this time, my wonderful creations would not dare to disobey me."

"And I accepted," the Master finished, smiling warmly at Jake, or at least Clara assumed that was where he was smiling. "Davros helped me, gave me everything I needed to create a Dalek army. The rest was up to me. Ships, power, money, influence. I found them easy to come by. It took the best part of a decade after you decimated the Dalek fleets, but I am ready to take the universe by storm. My own people banished me, thought me insane. Well they died and I lived. The lone survivor, except for that infernal Doctor. But now, all shall bow before me. I am truly the Master."

"What you are," Jake replied coolly, but Clara could hear the anger cracking apart his voice. "Is completely and utterly insane. And I'm going to stop you. I'm going to take you and your insane play thing here apart, free Clara, rescue the Doctor, teleport to Davros' command ship, kill him and then, just for fun, I'm going to blow it up, taking every single fucking Dalek with it. Properly this time. I don't want to see your filth in this universe, ever again. And there is not a thing that you, him, Davros or any of your mother fucking pepper pots can do to stop me." His voice had been getting louder and louder, until now he was yelling at the top of his voice and Clara could feel her own confidence growing with every word. "SO BRING. IT. ON."

She heard the whirring of the sonic and as she strained, she could touch it. The power. Her power. The field was down. So she did. She reached out, touched it, accessed it, let it flood through her body. She was free. She had adrenaline and energy flooding through her entire body and she had no intention of wasting them. She was going to use everything in her power to save the Doctor. The Master and Mr Clever moved at the same time she did, lunging for Jake as Clara broke her chains, moving and diving into Mr Clever as he gunned towards Jake. Jake met the Master mid-step and they were colliding in a fierce battle for supremacy as Clara focused her attention on her opponent. This time, she would one-up him. This time, she wouldn't let Mr Clever outwit her. This time she would kill him.

He hadn't seen her coming, so she already had the advantage as she slammed her body into his, taking all of his momentum and turning it against him, so he hit the floor with a painful slam, Clara landing on top of him and slamming two fast elbows into his face, shattering his nose and temporarily blinding him as he grappled to get her off him. He got in a couple of good blows to her gut and she rolled off, knowing that she already had the upper hand, and that there was no need to get in close. She glanced a look at Jake and the Master, but it was impossible to tell who was winning, the flurry of blows that they were exchanging was so fast and so hard, she couldn't decipher who was winning. Then Mr Clever was back on his feet, lunging for her.

* * *

Jake slammed his elbow down on Saxon's midriff and then ducked another loose punch before flipping Saxon over his shoulder and kicking him so hard Saxon went flying into the wall. He spared a glance for Clara as she landed an uppercut that sent Mr Clever staggering backwards. Jake wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but he was extremely happy with the quality of the punch, exactly like he'd taught her. He allowed himself a moment to be proud and that moment almost cost him as the Master came in like a wrecking ball and Jake was forced to desperately side-step. He slammed his body into Saxon's, knocking him off balance, giving Jake the leverage he needed to knock the Master to the floor with a solid punch. He stepped on Saxon's throat and slowly pressed down…

* * *

Mr Clever went flailing and Clara pressed the advantage, stepping in to work his body, fists hammering into his ribcage, screaming as she did so. He was not the Doctor, he had never been the Doctor. Yet he had tortured her, mocked her, killed her father, all in the name of the Doctor, her Doctor. He had tried to poison Clara against the one person in the world that she had loved so utterly and completely and she was going to make him pay for it. Mr Clever's razor sharp wit, his swagger, his mocking, had completely vanished now, he was like a scared child, rocking back and desperately trying to wrestle some control of the fight back as Clara punched again and again, every blow rising up the sickening feeling inside her that she was loving this.

"Not so clever are we now?" Clara taunted, enunciating every word with a punch, as Mr Clever desperately tried to defend himself but found himself falling back further and further with every blow that landed. "So not smart or strong. Where's that smile, Mr Clever? Where's that swagger? I don't see you straightening your bow tie now. And you won't. Because it's not your bow tie. It's his. And you'll never be wearing his bow tie ever again. I'm going to take from your cold, dead body and I'm going to put it back on my Doctor and I'm going to be happy. And you're going to die."

It felt good, every word, every punch felt so good, so strong, Clara felt elated, like she was on a cloud as she beat him, Mr Clever struggling to breathe, let alone produce a comeback. He managed to raise his defences, managed to deflect or block or dodge a few of Clara's strikes, but they just kept coming. Any sense of training, any sense of holding back had gone out the window. She'd never been able to unleash herself fully before, but now she could. She knew that he wasn't the Doctor, and whatever had been holding her back was gone and with every breaking rib, with every scream of pain, she felt better and better, more and more in control, until he was on the floor, begging for mercy and Clara was stood over him, with none to show. Clara smiled, a very un-Claralike smile and it felt good. It felt real. She was going to save the Doctor. She wasn't going to let this psychopath win. She wasn't going to let him escape. Clara didn't even realise she was crying and carried on punching.

* * *

Saxon swung a last ditch effort, all of his energy going into it and it was just enough. Jake lost his standing leg and tumbled, Saxon rising up to meet him and they collided in mid-air, a flurry of fists and kneecaps. Somehow, Saxon had managed to roll Jake and when his back hit the ground, it was Saxon who had control of the throat, his knee driving, and constricting Jake's windpipe. Jake snarled in pain, reaching up and grabbing the Master's throat, squeezing as hard as he could. He could feel the air flow to his brain failing, feel his grip weakening, so he ignored everything else and plunged all of his energy into strangling the Master. One of them was going to die, it was just a question of who blinked first.

"You…cannot…win!" Saxon gasped. Jake didn't bother to reply, it was a futile waste of energy. He closed his eyes, for he already knew that the black was coming, the darkness swirling around him as he could feel himself losing consciousness, he didn't need to see it too. He focused everything he had, every piece of energy he had left and then, just as he could feel his grip loosening, about to give way entirely, when he felt the Master become dead weight and collapse on top of him and the grip on his throat loosen.

Jake gasped, air flooding into his lungs as he rolled the Master off him. He didn't care if the Master was still alive or dead, he was taking no chances. He detached the Master's head from his body and turned to help Clara. But Clara didn't need any help, at least not when it came to fighting. She was sat on top of Mr Clever's dead body, sobbing helplessly, still throwing increasingly half-hearted punches at his beaten bloody face, until it no longer resembled the Doctor's at all. Jake crossed the room and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her off of the body as she cried into him.

"Clara," he said gently, more gently than he'd realised he could speak. "He's dead."

She nodded, the nod a solemn one and she sniffed slightly, regaining her composure. "He was my first," she muttered and Jake frowned. "My first kill. I broke my promise to my mum. I broke my promise to myself. Over him. And now I ask myself, was it worth it?"

She pulled herself together and practically threw Jake off as she stood, grinning from ear to ear, desperately trying to push away the traumatic event that had just occurred, the same way that Jake would have and it hurt to see her doing it.

"Let's go and save the Doctor."

And then the sound of laughter filled the room. Jake felt his heart filling with dread at the sound and they both turned to the computer screens, where Davros' face resided, laughing like someone had just told him the funniest joke. Neither of them asked what was funny.

"I'm afraid," Davros chuckled. "You won't be saving the Doctor any time soon. You see, I put a little failsafe into the system. A trap as it were. Should the Z.Y.G.O.N die before the link between him and the Doctor was properly severed, a very unique, very deadly poison would be inserted into the Doctor's control tank." Jake felt his heart sink and he reached for Clara's hand, watching her face carefully. "Suffice to say, by killing Mr Clever, you have activated that poison. There is no cure. The Doctor will die in a matter of hours and, the beauty of it, Clara Oswald, is that it is entirely your fault." Jake was staring, Davros' cackling not nearly as painful as the look on Clara's face, as he pinpointed the exact second when her heart shattered into a million pieces.


	24. Chapter 24: To Save The Doctor

***Hey troops! This chapter is absolutely helter-skelter. Whilst Jake races to stop the Daleks, Clara races to save the Doctor, before it's too late. As ever, humongous thanks to Chantelle and thank you so so so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited! Please keep reviewing! 3 left! TPD***

* * *

Clara's blood had ran cold at the sound of the laughter. She had been so close, there was almost nothing between her and the Doctor after weeks of torment. And then Davros had started speaking and everything had stood still. Clara had been rooted to the spot, utterly helpless, as her world splintered around her. Every word killed her a little bit more inside, the sense of dread building and building in a cacophony, until it was eating her up inside. Jake's hand had found hers, but she didn't feel it, all she felt was bile rising in her throat, her heart screaming and her stomach flipping. And then he said it and Clara felt like she'd been shot. Worse than shot. Being hit by a Dalek ray gun was less painful and Clara let out a noise halfway between a whimper and a sob. She was static, utterly static, as the world collapsed around her and Jake was speaking, but he was worlds away and nothing he said mattered, could matter. And then his hands were on her face and Clara snapped to him intently staring into her eyes.

"Clara!" he called and she finally acknowledged his voice. "Listen to me Clara, we can save him. There hasn't been a poison invented that Rory can't cure. We can still fix this, we will fix this, you hear me?" Clara swallowed and nodded, pushing the dread away. She needed to focus. "Right, you need to find the Doctor and you need to get him back to Rory, shouldn't be hard, TARDIS and all that. I'm going to go and take on Davros, I've already folded back the signal, I can use the TARDIS, teleport right on board."

A million questions occurred to Clara. She asked the first one that came into her head. "Alone?"

"I don't have a choice," Jake retaliated. "You need to get the Doctor to Rory and he won't be able to cure the Doctor without your help, some of the ingredients for the antidote will be rare, you'll need to hunt them down. Clara," he urged, seeing the look on her face. "Someone has to stop the Daleks. They're all in one place, they're vulnerable. I'll need to blow the whole thing up."

He didn't say what they were both thinking. That he wasn't going to come back and they both knew it. Clara shook her head. He groaned exasperatedly and she shook her head again, pulling him into a long, deep hug that he reciprocated and she could feel his tears on her cheeks. She didn't think she could let him do this as they broke apart and she stared at him. She couldn't let Jake die, she wouldn't.

"I'm not letting you go alone!" she replied stubbornly. "You saved me, how did you even find me, by the way?"

"The Doctor's not the only one good with computers," Jake replied with a smile. "Look Clara, I may not have injected you with a little device that goes boom inside your brain when you first joined the team, but I did inject you with a tiny tracer that I didn't tell anyone about, not even the Doctor. So I could track you. They were blocking any external signals but I managed to pick up a blip, just a blip. And I knew you were still alive and I could find you and get you out of here, so I TARDISed as close as I could and hijacked a space ship. River and Rory, they didn't believe me, they didn't follow me into this one. It doesn't matter. You and the Doctor. You two are what's important, you can still be happy. Both of you, you can still live the rest of your lives. Rory can cure the Doctor and I'll stop the Daleks, everybody wins. Except me. I'll probably die, but Clara. Your happiness, the Doctor's happiness, that is worth dying for. I've lost everything and everyone else. But you two can still be happy and it will be a pleasure to die doing the right thing. And taking a fucking shitload of Daleks with me. I've found something worth dying for Clara."

Clara had nothing to say to that. She just stared at him. He gave her another broken smile, still crying. She shook her head, she'd not stopped since he'd made his intentions clear. She wasn't about to let anyone else die for her. She wasn't worth it. But she could see from the look in his eyes. This wasn't just about her, this was about the Doctor. And she hated herself. Two men, both of whom would die without her and she didn't even consider it a question. Jake knew it. He was using that. He was telling her that he was going to die for her and for the Doctor and that Clara couldn't stop him without letting the Doctor die, which was not something Clara was willing to do.

"Please come back," she whispered and Jake saluted her, still crying. He looked different when he was crying, a lot younger, a lot more vulnerable. He looked like the sort of person that Clara could imagine herself being best friends with. But it was too late for that now. They'd come far together to not be close, but they should've been closer and they both knew it.

"If I don't," Jake said, his breath shaky. "Then tell the Doctor from me, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I believed for even a second that he could do this to me. He didn't betray me. He was my best friend and I betrayed him. I should have tackled the option that he wasn't the Doctor from the beginning, I might have been able to…" Jake trailed off. "Goodbye Clara."

And then he was close, a teleport blip and Clara was alone. She'd never felt more alone, on an alien ship, was only Daleks for company and Jake so far away by now. But the Doctor was relying on her. She had to save him, or she might as well not carry on. What good was she, did it matter how many lives she had saved, if she couldn't save the Doctor when he needed her the most? Clara took a deep breath and ran over to the console. First problem, she had Daleks closing on her location. Three of them. She didn't have time to find the Doctor's location, she had to deal with them first.

She heard them now, the mechanical whirring of their flight devices as they approached and she could see the formation that they would take, one in front, the other two flanking. She had to take one out fast, expend as much energy as she needed to in order to achieve that and then take a few moments to recover. Dodging two Dalek shots was a hell of a lot easier than three. Then, she had an even better idea, as she spotted the door, that had been blown off of its hinges, still conveniently placed in the middle of the room. She ducked underneath it, holding it above her head and then she started twirling it in one hand, trying to build up momentum as she waited for the right moment to send it towards the doorway.

Then they appeared, the Daleks, in formation as she had predicted, moving with their slick nature and they barely had time to croak out their warning, battle cry, whatever the fuck it was, before the door was flung their way. She took a guilty pleasure from their shrieks as each of them had time to fire a bolt uselessly into the door before it reached them, slamming hard into them, positively crackling with energy, so that it was more like an explosion waiting to happen than a door and the almighty roar that filled the room as the door struck the Daleks made Clara wince slightly, holding up a hand to protect her face from the blinding light and energy feedback.

Satisfied that the Daleks (and the door) were in pieces, Clara returned to the computer, desperate to find the Doctor. She had pushed all of the dread, all of the pain and all of her anger down inside. She would save the Doctor and then she would save Jake, easy as. She was determined, that would be the way that it went down. Neither of them were dying, not today. She typed frantically and sure enough, there he was. She hacked the camera, so that she could see his face. There he was, strung up, in a giant test tube, as naked as the day he was born. Clara bit her lip and crossed the room, taking a few precious seconds to strip Mr Clever's dead body of the Doctor's trousers, jacket and bow tie.

"Hang on Doctor," she whispered, as she stepped out into the corridor, pulling the Doctor's clothes on over her battle gear. She was slightly warm and uncomfortable, but that didn't matter. She slipped his bow tie into the jacket pocket. "I'm coming…"

* * *

Clara was sick of Daleks. Despite Jake's best efforts to clear them out, the corridors were still riddled and she couldn't take any chances. If any survived, they could come back stronger, so Clara had to purge the entire base. On the one hand, this meant that she was spending a lot more time and energy than she'd meant to in order to find the Doctor and every second that she wasted meant that Jake and the Doctor were running out of time. On the other hand, she had to kill every Dalek and the Doctor was on the other side of the base anyway.

The screaming that filled the air whenever a Dalek died made her shudder. She had thought that she would enjoy it, that she would take the same, perverse pleasure that she had taken when killing Mr Clever, but she didn't. She just felt wrong. She didn't think that the Daleks were still alive, not anymore, but it was just a lie that she told herself, in order to convince herself that she was doing the right thing. She felt empty inside, as though someone had tipped her on her head and shaken her, until everything that there was, everything that was Clara Oswald, had been removed. Now she was driven by the Doctor, the only person left that could bring back the person that she was, that could make everything okay again.

She knew that he couldn't work miracles, she knew that he wouldn't be able to give her back her life. But he could give her him and that would be enough. To be able to hold him, to be able to kiss him, would at least give her the ability to feel, to live with herself after this whole mess finished. But there were still another half a dozen Daleks or so between her and the Doctor. She moved fast as they saw her, diving to the left as they fired at her. She found an alcove to give herself a moment to recover. She stuck out a hand and fired a couple of streams of energy, which she could hear bounce off the Dalek protection shields. Clara groaned and stepped out, unleashing a constant stream of energy on the nearest Dalek, which screamed as it exploded.

Then she was moving again, for the other Daleks were returning fire and getting closer. Clara was dodging recklessly, moving closer to close the distance between her and the monsters, until she was close enough to rip off the Dalek's eyestalk and fire an energy ball into the gap left behind, so the insides of the Dalek lit up like a Christmas tree. She kicked it as it exploded, taking the closest one with it and then she was on the next one, fist plunging through its outer shell, blasting its insides to shreds. She had to admit, punching a Dalek hurt about as much as being hit by one, but she shrugged off the debilitating agony sweeping through her to focus her attention on the final two Daleks, which were still adjusting to the dust cloud that had been kicked up by the previous Dalek deaths.

Clara stepped out of the dust, covered from head to toe in Dalek, her eyes blazing as her hair whipped behind her. She unleashed two constant streams of energy and the Daleks barely had time to fire back, both of them missing, before their shields gave in to the weight of her attacks and they screamed as they exploded. Clara allowed herself a moment to shudder for the Daleks that were gone and then she nervously brushed dust from the Doctor's jacket and smoothed out her hair. She must have looked like hell, but then the Doctor was naked, so who was he to judge?

She stepped into the lab. There had been a few human lab techs, she could tell that much, but they had obviously legged it, because there was no evidence that any of them were still around. Clara doubted that they were even remotely dangerous anyway, but if any of them pitched up again, she could deal with them.

She found the Doctor, his tank and she took a moment to press her forehead to the glass. She fumbled frantically for a switch, some way to free him but there were no obvious signs. She pulled the Doctor's sonic from his jacket and brandished it wildly. Her brain had turned to mush, there were no thoughts but the Doctor and how she was going to rescue him from his prison. Something obviously worked, because there was a vicious hissing and the green, ominous liquid that filled his chamber was flooding away somewhere and Clara felt tears running down her cheeks of their own accord and suddenly her arms were on him. He felt exactly the same way that he always had, those insanely bony shoulders, the incredible chin and the floppy hair, stained black by the wet.

"Doctor!" she gasped, her voice breaking as she held him. His eyelids fluttered open and there was a moment when he looked at her, confused and Clara thought for a second, for a horrific, soul-destroying second, that he wouldn't remember her. And then he hugged her back, groaning in pain slightly as he tried to gain his footing without her help. They broke apart and he was staring at her.

"Clara!" he acknowledged and the sound of him saying her name sent a shiver down her spine. "Where are we? What…what happened? The last thing I remember is Amy accusing you of being the traitor! So who was it?"

"Oh for the love of…" Clara paused. "They obviously haven't bothered to fill your head with lies, like they've been doing for months. You were kidnapped, you've been in a tank but you thought you were at the base with me the whole time, you know how genetic template work right?" he nodded. "You were the traitor. Well your template was the traitor. Bottom line, traitor and Master are dead, Davros was behind the whole thing, whoever the hell Davros is…"

"The original creator of the Daleks," the Doctor replied, suddenly very pale.

"Right," Clara was talking at a thousand miles per hour now. "Yes, him. He has an army of Daleks, Jake's gone to blow them all to hell and I need to go and help him. But first, I need to cure you. You were poisoned, apparently incurable but Jake reckons Rory can cook something up if we get you back to him in time. We need to get you home now."

"Wait," the Doctor interrupted her and then without warning, he fell to his knees, frothing at the mouth and shaking violently. Clara screamed, her voice box out of her control as she collapsed alongside him, holding him like he was the most precious thing alive, unable to think of anything else to do. Then the Doctor was back and he was staring at her, fear clear in his eyes.

"Sorry," he stood and Clara stood with him. "Tried to do a detox, didn't work." She looked at him like he was insane. Then he gasped in pain and clutched his side. "I am poisoned and it is incurable," he muttered and Clara felt her heart twinging all over again, but she didn't let it take her over, she had to believe, had to keep fighting. "Jake, he's facing Davros and his Dalek army?" She nodded. "Alone?"

"I couldn't go with him," Clara snapped defensively. "I couldn't leave you to die."

"And I can't leave him to die!" the Doctor retorted angrily and Clara could see it in his eyes. She knew what was coming and she was conflicted, so conflicted. "We're going after him."

"I'll go after him!" Clara protested. "Doctor, you need to get back to Rory, you need to try and find a way to stop the poison."

"Clara!" the Doctor's voice was calm and gentle, but firm. "There is no way to stop this poison. I'm a dead man walking. And I'll be damned if I'm going to let Jake die as well."

Clara shook her head, her stomach churning, her breath stopping in her throat. She felt dizzy and nauseous and she was struggling to form words.

"Clara," the Doctor said once more. "We need to save Jake. I'm sorry."

He was right, of course he was right. But she couldn't stop herself from crying and from screaming. She took a moment, no more than a moment, to let it all out. And in that moment, Clara Oswald died a thousand times over, screaming and crying and her entire body burned itself up over and over again, because she was going to lose him and she couldn't bear to lose him. Then she took a deep breath and recomposed herself. She forced the denial to reappear, buried everything else deep down inside and turned to the Doctor, frantically typing into her watch, finding Jake's location and locking onto it, whilst he dressed quickly in the clothes that she had pilfered from Mr Clever.

"Geronimo," she whispered. And then they were gone.


	25. Chapter 25: Together

***Hey guys, we're nearly done now, so fair warning, prepare yourselves for tears, as the Doctor, Jake and Clara take on Davros and the Daleks. As ever, huge thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited and thanks to the wonderful Chantelle for all of her help. Please please let me know what you think and I really hope you enjoy it! TPD***

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When they landed, all hell broke loose. Jake was surrounded by more than a dozen Daleks and ducking and weaving their strikes. Clara and the Doctor were right in the middle of the carnage and she felt herself being dragged to the floor as shots whizzed over their heads. She exchanged a look with the Doctor and then they were up, firing back, stepping back to avoid the Dalek shots, explosions to their left, right and centre as they swerved, side by side, back to back, moving fiercely. Then Jake spotted him and the alarm was written all over face. Clara felt guilt surging through her. But she was doing this for him.

"What the fuck are you two doing here?" Jake roared, as he got close enough to snap a Dalek eyestalk. They were still shooting and moving, all three of them battling to avoid being hit and Clara felt her shirt tear as a shot whizzed by and she shot back so viciously that she almost sheared the Dalek in half.

"We came to save you. You sorry, ungrateful, self-sacrificing arsehole!" Clara shouted back, punctuating each adjective with a blow. The dust was settling and the Daleks were all taken out and it didn't look like more were coming. "If that's okay with you?" she turned back to Jake, who looked as though she had slapped him.

"No!" he replied angrily, not even sparing the Doctor a glance. She knew why he couldn't look at his best friend, couldn't even imagine he was there. The guilt was painfully obvious on Jake's face. "No Clara Oswald, it is not okay with me, I did not come here so that you two could follow me. I made it perfectly clear to you how this was going to go down."

"Yes you did!" Clara snapped back, the proximity between her and Jake having evaporated so she was close enough to punch him in the gut without him having time to react, if she chose. "You made it perfectly clear what you intended to do, and you emotionally blackmailed me into doing what you wanted, because you want to be the sacrificial lamb. But guess what, I have no intention of letting you die because guess what, I owe you everything. More than that, you're just as worth dying for as I am."

"No I'm not," Jake's voice was cold, hard and quiet. He shook his head furiously. "I'm really not Clara. Please, I am begging you. Both of you!" This was the first time he had addressed the Doctor directly. "Please, just let me do this. I want to protect you both."

"Jake," the Doctor said quietly and Jake finally turned to him, his anger melting away as he stared at his oldest friend and they were both fighting the urge to cry. "We both know that there is no happy ending for either of us. We knew that a long time ago. But damn it all, if you're going to die blowing up Daleks then you know that there's only place that I want to die and that is by your side." They were exchanging a look, a silent thought exchanged between them and Clara did not miss the glances that they both shot her. She knew that neither of them were going to let her die with them, but that wasn't their choice to make.

"If you two die," Clara announced and they both flinched as they whipped round to face her. "Then I'm fucking dying with you. We all die together, or not at all, do you hear me?"

"Clara!" They both said at the same time, but she crossed her arms, staring at them like they were pupils in her classroom that had been caught scrapping on the playground. They looked at her guiltily, took a deep breath and then the Doctor nodded. Jake nodded reluctantly a moment later.

"So that's settled," Clara sighed nervously, her voice high. "We all die together or none of us dies and the Daleks die either way. So, what's the plan?"

"The plan," Jake had managed to cobble together some of his swagger, and even though neither Clara nor the Doctor bought his confidence for a second, they both needed to accept it and roll with it. "Is this. I find the main power core and strap an absolute fucking ton of explosives to it, whilst you two get to the command bridge and find Davros. Kill him and then we meet back here in half an hour, blow the Daleks to hell and then get home with plenty of time to cure the Doctor before that poison does any damage. Simple, easy, no problems whatsoever."

"Nobody gets left behind," Clara clarified. The Doctor and Jake nodded.

"Nobody gets left behind."

* * *

Clara prowled low as the Doctor moved above her. By her crouching, he could fire over her head and they were able to either destroy one Dalek twice as fast or take on twice as many Daleks at once. It was an effective strategy and Clara focused on the strategic side of it. Neither she nor the Doctor had time to get emotional, because if they got emotional, then they got killed and in truth, Clara suspected that they were both putting it off. Putting off the inevitable moments where they clung to each other and kissed and cried before they died. She was both longing for and dreading their final moments together, which made focusing on the task at hand, blowing up Daleks, a hell of a lot easier than it would otherwise have been.

Jake's plan of regrouping in half an hour was totally unrealistic and they knew it. In twenty minutes, they had managed to get about two thirds of the way to the command deck, but the corridors were now flooded with Daleks and every single step had to be hard earned. It was exhausting work and at the end of every corridor they needed to stop and rest before hurling themselves back into the carnage, the hell that this station had become. Clara was worn out beyond belief and every fight wearied her out a little more and she could feel her dodges and defences becoming increasingly sloppy. She found herself having more and more nearly moments with every corridor that they passed, every Dalek that they slayed until she was finally hit by a Dalek shot and the world momentarily went a fierce shade of electric blue. She staggered and she could feel her body about to give in.

But the Doctor was not about to give in. Clara had never seen him this way before; he was burning from the inside out and every battle he seemed to get stronger, as if the sight of dead Daleks spurred him on. He was yelling and weaving, sonic in one hand, power lighting up his other and the Daleks seemed to shrink back slightly from him. As Clara took the Dalek death ray to the chest and lost her footing, he wrenched her back to her feet in an instant, letting out an almighty roar before slaughtering every Dalek in the corridor in a matter of seconds with a furious flurry of blows.

"Are you okay?" he breathed, propping her up. Clara waved off his help. "Clara?"

"I'm fine," she informed him, brushing herself down. There was an intensity to his eyes and she couldn't help but be sucked in by it. He was breathing heavily, panting almost, sweating everywhere and it had clearly taken more out of him than he was willing to let on. His hands were still around her and she closed the gap between them, reaching up to touch his huge chin. Their lips just grazed each other's and then he shook his head.

"Now is not the time or place," he said wisely and Clara rolled her eyes.

"You think I don't know that?" she asked, her tone of voice soft but jarring. "But I might never get another chance to do this." He shook his head furiously and she knew that they were both taking it in turns now to deny their reality. "Doctor, I-"

"Don't say it," he whispered harshly. "Neither of us are going to die, so don't say it. The next time I want to hear you say it, I want us to be free of this Dalek ship, you understand me?" He pulled her in closer. They were both telling themselves that they both needed a moment of recovery from the previous battle but of course it was more than that. They needed each other, because they didn't know if they'd ever be able to hold each other again.

"We need to move," Clara said eventually, the twenty seconds or so of contact both a lot more than they could afford and nowhere near as much as they needed. "Now."

They broke apart and moved down the next corridor, back into the eye of the storm. The Doctor's brutal energy and efficiency spurred Clara on and she felt her own intensity levels rise as they got closer and closer to the bridge. And she needed every ounce of that energy, as the Daleks just kept coming, swathes upon swathes of them. There was no telling how big Davros' army was by now, but judging by the Doctor's fear, it was big enough to enslave or slaughter the galaxy, as Davros had promised. Clara knew that this battle was going to be not just one that decided their fate, but everyone's fate. If they didn't destroy the Daleks now, then that was it, they were done for. Hundreds of thousands of millions of people would die and it would all be on Clara's head. She had to do her mother proud.

The command bridge looked almost impossible to preach when they got there. It was, to quote her Gallifreyan companion, Doctor-proof. They had to take out every Dalek in the corridor just to get to the blast doors, five feet thick, reinforced Dalekanium. Clara suggested sonicing, but that was met by a hollow laugh. They knew the Doctor well enough to know how he operated. But they didn't know Clara Oswald, didn't know how she operated. She knew that the only way through the Dalekanium was for it to open, which the Doctor couldn't do. But a Dalek could. The Doctor watched on confused, as Clara went skidding into another corridor, using one of the incapacitation devices that she had stolen off of Mr Clever to incapacitate one Dalek and then she called him over to help her drag the Dalek to the door. From there, it was a simple task to hijack the Dalek, to get it to open the door for them.

"Have I ever told you how brilliant that you are Soufflé Girl?" the Doctor asked with a chuckle as the doors kicked into life.

"Nowhere near enough Chin-Boy," Clara laughed in response. And then their world descended into hell. There were more Daleks than she could count on the command bridge, in many ways this was their final stand, their last defence of their creator. Clara loved keeping track of her opponents, it was a habit that she had picked up, so having too many to keep track of terrified her, shook her to the core. But she barely had half a second to think about it before they fired and she acted on instinct. She went one way and the Doctor the other, her fists blazing, energy flying in all directions. She didn't keep tabs, she just kept going. She didn't know where the energy came from for her to carry on, but she did, she just kept moving, every duck, every shot, every Dalek scream a small triumph and she built herself on small triumphs, keeping them ticking over, not letting anything slip past her and she moved. The Doctor was magnificent beside her, slaying Dalek after Dalek in all manner of inventive ways, using his surroundings and the sonic to his advantage.

And then he slipped. Just for a second, not even that. It wasn't even his fault, not really, Clara knew that. The poison had kicked in, sending a jolt of weakness through him at the wrong moment and he was on his knees as the Dalek shots came from all directions. Clara screamed, the noise a strangled cry as her heart stopped beating, her lungs stopped breathing, her brain stopped working and she almost died herself in that moment. Then the Doctor was moving, but not of his own accord, Jake dragging him out of the way of the blasts, returning fire. It took the Doctor a moment to recover and Jake had bought him that moment. Clara's body reignited, everything suddenly back at full steam and she was fiercer than ever before, every Dalek that came at her went down, Jake and the Doctor beside her, the three of them working in tandem. The room was carnage and then it was over.

Clara kicked a dead bit of Dalek as they hobbled towards the middle of the room. There was no sign of Davros, for a moment anyway. Then Clara got her first real look at him. He was in a corner, hiding, like the coward that he was. He wasn't big and strong and superior, like Saxon, but pitiful, more Dalek than human. He had one, deep blue eye, hanging above the sockets where his eyes had once been. His skin was a horrible grey and leathery, his entire body crippled and clad in black, strapped into a Dalek lower half. He was whimpering, as the Doctor and Jake crossed the room. Clara followed them hurriedly and Jake took a step back, touching Clara's shoulder gently.

"This is his," he said to her. "The Doctor is the one who lost everything to Davros, not me and not you."

Clara wanted to protest, to say that if the Doctor died because of Davros, then she would have lost out to the Dalek creator, but the Doctor had lost so much more than that and she was being selfish to even try and take what she could lose out of perspective, when Davros had taken everything from the Doctor again and again.

"I should kill you," the Doctor said, a hard edge to his voice. "I should separate your head from your body and walk away. I didn't do that last time and here we are. I almost lost Clara. I could still lose Clara. Because of you."

"Then do it," Davros snarled. "Do it Doctor, prove yourself the man that I know you are. You are a killer, just like me, no better than me and I will die knowing that I proved myself right about that at the very least."

The Doctor shook his head. He stood, turned and walked away from Davros. At that moment, the Dalek creator pulled out his own gun and pointed it at the Doctor's retreating body. Jake moved faster than Clara had ever seen him move and the shot that left his hand was so powerful that it didn't so much kill Davros as implode him and there was time for the monstrosity that had brought so much pain to the universe to scream before he died. The Doctor whipped round and Clara's heart was thundering against her chest. She ran to him and wrapped her arms around him and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well I'm glad that's over," he laughed. "Now we need to blow up the Daleks. Jake?"

Jake had moved and the Doctor was moving as well. Clara was suddenly conscious of the distances shifting but she was too focused on Jake's words to think too much about it.

"Explosives are all primed Doctor," he said quietly, coldly and Clara felt her heart drop into her stomach. "But there's no chance of activating them from the base. You'll have to do it from here. You know the drill, you need to get the Daleks as close to the core as you can, all of them, no chances, no survivors, nothing."

"Doctor," Clara's voice had gone as hard as Jake's. "What the hell is he talking about? We're all staying, we can all TARDIS back together, when it's over. We're all in this together."

She had the horrible feeling that she'd been played and her world was spinning, everything turning to despair and as Jake spoke, she vaguely clocked that he was closer to her than he had any right to be but she was too focused on the Doctor's sorrowful face to recognise it.

"There's no time to TARDIS back," he explained and a fresh wave of dizziness hit Clara. "When I activate the explosives, I'll be roasted along with the Daleks. But that was to be expected I suppose, I only have about an hour left before the poison takes me anyway, I can feel it spreading. Even if there was an antidote, it would be too late."

"No!" Clara was choking on her tears. "Shut up, stop talking like that, if you think I'm leaving you here then you're mental. Jake and I aren't going anywhere, isn't that right Jake?"

When Jake didn't answer, Clara got more desperate.

"You realise," she said firmly, with more authority than she knew she had. "That you will have to knock me out and drag my cold unconscious body off of this station before I leave you here to die alone, right Doctor?"

He nodded. "I know that Clara," he said quietly. "I love you. And I'm sorry."

And then Clara felt Jake's arm around her neck. She realised, too late, exactly what was happening and she struggled, but Jake was already constricting her windpipe and her flailing was all in vain. She was yet to beat Jake in a single fight in her entire life and she wasn't backing herself to start now. Clara felt despair taking over, she was losing her vision, the Doctor was slipping away from her more and more every passing second. She was trying to speak, trying to ask Jake to stop, but it was in vain, as his grip on her life was ironclad.

"Please!" she croaked, every movement of her limbs increasingly tired and even the white hot agony in her heart was dulling as she lost control, lost the Doctor.

"I love you too!" she tried to say, but the words got lost on her tongue and all she managed to say before the blackness took her was his name, one final time…


	26. Chapter 26: The Oncoming Storm

***Hey troops! Penultimate chapter for you now and this one is an absolute belter, from the perspective of everyone's favourite Gallifreyan. I really really hope that you like it! As ever, massive thanks to Chantelle for all of her help and thank you so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited! Please review! TPD***

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Eyes, the Doctor thought, could convey so many things. In this moment, he wanted to look anywhere but into the eyes of Clara Oswald, but he owed her that much. For what he was about to do to her, he owed her looking in her eyes when he broke her heart and his promise to her. That they would die together. He had no intention of letting anyone die but him. The moment Jake's arm went around Clara's neck, her eyes went wide. They were full of shock and anger, flooded with despair, but above all, desperation and pleading. She was staring at the Doctor, trying to keep hold of her view of him, trying to convince him to help her. To stop Jake. But the Doctor couldn't, he couldn't stop Jake. There was something else in Clara's eyes and that was what made the Doctor want to call the whole thing off. Resignation. She was resigned to her fate. Then, after a few moments, Clara's eyes snapped shut and the Doctor's eyes met Jake's instead.

Jake's eyes were no less sorrowful than Clara's, but duller, like he was trying to shut it out. He knew how this ended and he was trying to ignore his role in it. He released the grip around Clara's neck and swept her unconscious body into his arms, sparing her a look of concern, his eyes alight when they moved to Clara. Then he turned back to the Doctor.

The Doctor didn't say anything. He didn't need to tell Jake to look after Clara, because Jake would do that regardless. He didn't need to apologise to Jake for dying and he didn't need to thank Jake for everything. He knew it all already. There was nothing that the Doctor could say, that Jake didn't already know and they had both accepted their role in the state of play. Only Clara had tried to fight it and now she was gone. Safe. He had sent her away, made her safe. He hoped that in time she would forgive him, but he'd settle for her just surviving. She would be stubborn, be very Clara about the whole thing, but in time, she could be happy again. She wouldn't see it that way of course, but the Doctor didn't doubt that at least there was a way out for Clara.

There was no way out for him. The poison working its way through his body was already too far gone. Even if the Doctor wanted to run, wanted to go with Clara and Jake and find a way to live happily ever after, he couldn't. He was now dealing in minutes rather than hours. But that was okay. He was the Doctor. He would do what the Doctor did. He would help people, he would save people. He needed to stop the Daleks.

Jake nodded once, his final goodbye. The Doctor nodded shakily back. He would never see his best friend or the woman he loved again. But it was better, like ripping off a plaster. Neither of them would have to see him die. It was just a shame that he couldn't see them live. Jake threw the Doctor the remote control for the explosives, which he pocketed and then, Jake took a deep breath. The Doctor could see in his eyes that now that the moment had come, he couldn't do it. He was staring at the face of his oldest friend and his composure was finally slipping. The Doctor shot Jake his most pleading eyes and glanced down at Clara. Jake looked at Clara and the Doctor could see his eyes softening briefly and then hardening again as he turned back to the Doctor. And then he took a very long, harsh, raggedy breath, before pushing a few buttons on his watch to call the TARDIS. Then, Jake and Clara were gone and the Doctor was alone.

He knew what he needed to do and focused on the task at hand. He needed to lure in the Daleks, get them as close to the core as he could, to ensure that they went up in the blast. Well, that would prove simple enough. If there was one thing guaranteed to make the Daleks come running, one perfect piece of Dalek bait, it was the Doctor himself. He needed to get across the ship and get all of the Daleks to go with him. Easy. Of course it was easy. Unless he became Dalek bait on the way there. Which would be not so…easy. The Doctor ran over to the consoles, sonic whirring, trying to access them. There was very little that he could do with them, they were well and truly Doctor-proofed, everything important was deadlock sealed. He could lower the Daleks' power levels a bit, but that was about it.

Luckily, the communications system was on an entirely different network and one that was a lot easier to hack. The Doctor raised his sonic in the air, as he used it to patch through the communications network, so that when he spoke, his voice booming, it could be heard on every corner of the ship and every single Dalek would be able to locate him, almost instantly. A horrifying thought, for someone who cared about dying more than the Doctor.

"Hello there Daleks!" he roared, his voice echoing as he could hear it shooting out of every speaker and computer system. "You all know me, at least you should. I am programmed into your very DNA, your history, your legacy. If Davros is your maker, then I am your undoing. I stood there, on Gallifrey as it burned and I took down thousands of you. I stood in the plains of Mondas as we battled that day, I led the forces and I slayed Dalek after Dalek. I am the sworn enemy of all things Dalek and the greatest threat you have ever faced. I am the Oncoming Storm, I am the Doctor. And I am dying. You know that and I know that. But I have no intention of going down, not without a fight. So if I'm going to die tonight, then I am going to take every last one of you with me." His voice was louder and louder, until now he was yelling at the top of his lungs. "SO COME ON THEN!" he roared. "BRING IT ON! UNLESS YOU'RE AFRAID OF ME! COME ON DALEKS! IF YOU WANT MY LIFE, COME AND GET IT!"

The Doctor lowered his sonic, took a deep breath, straightened his bow tie and then ran.

* * *

The Doctor thought that it was possible that he had underestimated the amount of Daleks that there were. And by possible, he meant certain. They were everywhere, spilling out from all sides and as he ran, directing them to follow him, like the orchestrator of some sort of bizarre choir of death, he sensed that this was a nigh on impossible task. But one he would complete. He had to. It all meant nothing if he didn't. If he died before stopping the Daleks, if he didn't take them all with him, then his death meant nothing, his sacrifice meant nothing. He had sent Clara away to be safe, but she wouldn't be safe unless he took the Daleks with him. He moved down a dead end and whipped out his sonic, brandishing it at the walls, looking for a way out.

"EXTERMINATE THE DOCTOR!"

He skidded around and there they were, three of them. Three was easy, one shot, two shot, quick use of the sonic to slow them down, three shot, four shot, now the first one should backfire its own weapon with one more sonic. One more blast to each of the flankers, and job done. The Doctor took a moment to sigh in relief and then he was hit by a wave in pain in his intestines, where the poison was burning its way through his internal organs. The Doctor fell to his knees, feeling his digestive system failing him and he took a minute to compose himself, to let the power flood his body, to keep him standing. Then he was back, pushing the pain back down, deep inside. Let his body burn, he didn't need it; he just needed the strength to carry on.

He found what he was looking for, up against the wall and using the sonic to harness it opened up the panel. He could use the panel on the wall to open the trapdoor below him, which would allow him access to the vents. The quickest way to the ship's core and the Daleks would know where he was going. They would go there in their hundreds and the Doctor would blow them all to hell.

He fumbled with the electronics for a moment. Computers were and always had been his speciality and the battle side of things had never appealed to him that much. Even now, taking a kind of grim satisfaction from the knowledge that the Daleks were going up in flames, he wasn't relishing being the one to do it. But it had to be him. Jake and Clara still had a chance at survival and at being happy. The Doctor's chances had been stripped the minute that the poison was injected to his veins. He didn't blame her, didn't blame Clara, couldn't blame Clara. She hadn't told him how he was poisoned, but he knew Davros' methods and he knew the look on her face, when she looked at him. Guilt. Killing the traitor genetically linked to him had triggered the poison and Clara had been the one to kill him, the Doctor didn't need anyone to spell it out for him. But he understood. Whatever the traitor had done to her, he had shaken her. She was different. Harder and shaken, like she had been put through hell in the short time that the Doctor had been gone. He only hoped that she would last the longer time that he was gone.

He forced himself to stop thinking about Clara, because it was harder to supress the poison raging like fire in his veins when he was already suffering the vicious twisting that thinking about her placed on his heart. He needed to forget about Clara, it was the only way he could properly save Clara. If he thought about her, he would be distracted, he would lose his focus and then he would die and he would be of no help to her.

As the trapdoor slid open, the Doctor cleared his mind, purging it of all Clara related thoughts and then he jumped, the cold air rushing up to meet him. The air ducts should be easy to control, he thought, adjusting the sonic's settings to slow his descent. He wanted to give the Daleks plenty of notice as to where he was heading, but mainly, he didn't want to break every bone in his body when he landed. He knew that the Daleks were tracking his movements, had a lock on his sonic technology. By using the sonic as much as he could, it gave the Doctor the reassurance that the Daleks all knew where he was and that they were coming for him.

He felt the air duct vanish from around him and suddenly he had lost all control and was just plummeting, falling through the air, nothing around him and he primed himself for landing. He hit the floor and rolled into a crouch, standing hurriedly. He was at the core alright. But so were hundreds of Daleks. They were still flooding from all sides, surrounding him, hovering above him and below him. The core itself was huge and cylindrical, with about ten levels of platforms above and below the Doctor. He didn't know how much of it Jake had rigged up with explosives, but enough was the answer.

"DOCTOR!" the Daleks screeched and the Doctor held up his hands. The poison pumping through him had given him maybe a few minutes to live; he could feel the constriction on his heart and lungs and that had nothing to do with Clara. Even now, he couldn't spare her a thought, he wasn't done yet. "SURRENDER NOW OR DIE!"

"Oh," the Doctor laughed. "So that's it is it? All I have to do is pledge my undying loyalty and you'll magically find a way to bring me back from the dead? Because that's what you'll have to do. My heart, my lungs, my kidneys, my liver, they're all packing it in. So tell me Daleks, what possible leverage can you have on me now? What possible reason would I have for surrendering?"

They didn't answer. There was no answer. Clara was safe, the Doctor was about to die and everything had been leading up to this moment. He staggered slightly, but straightened his bow tie, one last time and stared at the Daleks, all around him, waiting for them to make their move, which they would inevitably make.

"EXTERMINATE THE DOCTOR. EXTERMINATE."

And then they were coming, from all sides, death rays. Daleks were firing from above, below, in front of him, behind him, to his left and to his right. A sphere of lightning blue jets, streaking towards him, intent on striking him down. He moved, impossibly fast, considering he had very little left to give. He was going to keep them coming, force the Daleks in here, keep fighting, know for sure that he had taken out as many as he could. He let the shots whizz by, no doubt embedding themselves in other Daleks. He didn't need to expend his energy doing anything more than dodging, the Daleks were willing to risk annihilating each other if it meant destroying their greatest enemy. They had no leader, no control and they returned to their default setting, killing and he was right on top of their list.

Then he fired back. Because he wasn't just going to take it. He had energy left in his body, sparks of it, power left to give. And if he was going to burn, then he ought to ensure that every last drop of blood that he gave, every sinew he utilised, was used to stop the Daleks. Every shot that left his hands found its target, every whip of the sonic used to turn the Daleks surroundings against them, separating steel plates from the walls and ceilings, playing havoc with Dalek systems, the core itself starting to shake, the explosives would go off of their own accord if he wasn't careful.

And still they kept coming, kept filtering in, as if the entire Dalek army wanted to be the one to kill him. And still the Doctor moved, still he dodged, fired back, still the screeches of the Daleks filled his ears, his blood rushing, burning and he could feel himself growing weaker by the second. But he wasn't done. Not yet. Not until he was sure that Clara was going to be okay. So he kept shooting and the Daleks kept shooting and there had to come a moment when something gave.

And then they stopped coming. The Daleks stopped coming and they stopped shooting and the Doctor felt his heart stopping, giving out and he fell to his knees. He had seconds, his heart had stopped beating, his lungs were no longer working. The entire room was full, there was no more room for more. The Daleks were watching him. Then he realised. They had all come to watch him die. Daleks did have emotions. But they had hate and fear. And they hated and feared the Doctor and seeing him die was as close to feeling something as a Dalek could get. And their need for that would be their undoing.

"DOCTOR!" One Dalek moved ahead of the rest. It's outer shell was rustic red and it was slightly bigger than the others. They had some sort of chain of command after all then. Daleks. Even when he was a moment from death, they could surprise him. He hoped that that was mutual. "NOW YOU DIE. AND THE DALEK RACE WILL BEAR WITNESS."

"No," he whispered, sliding to the floor, his knees no longer able to support his weight, but he stared defiantly at the Dalek. "The Dalek race will go to hell."

And then he pressed the button, the core ignited and the sound of screaming Daleks filled the Doctor's ears as he died.


	27. Chapter 27: Coping

***Hello troops! Last chapter! I've been very slack on the writing front, I'd hoped to have achieved a lot more by now, but watch this space, because in about a week or so, I will be unleashing a new fic, the sequel to the one and only Transitions! Anyways, I promised you no happy ending. So here we go. I hope you've enjoyed this fic. If you have, please please please review and let me know and thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, those of you that have followed and favourited and those who have read it. And all the thanks in the world to the incredible Chantelle, whose new fic What Happens Tomorrow is going to break your hearts, so you'd better read it. TPD out.***

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Clara's eyelids fluttered open and it took her a moment to realise what had happened. It was the last happy moment of her life. But her whole world was glass and then it hit her and the glass shattered and Clara shattered along with it. She couldn't cry, as much as she wanted to. She had already cried enough to fill a river. She just felt broken, like there was nothing left. Someone had eaten her up inside, so that there was nothing left to feel. Except a trickle. A trickle that built up and up inside her, until the trickle became a wave and she realised that she would never see his happy, smiling face again, that she'd never be able to straighten his bow tie and then she was crying, when she had never thought that she would be able to cry again. This seemed cyclical for a few hours, spells where Clara thought that there was no way she'd ever feel again, only for her anger, her sorrow to come thundering back, colliding with her so that no matter how loudly she screamed, it couldn't reflect how she felt. She was stuck in bed, but she didn't feel injured, she just felt destroyed, like her body was nothing without him.

"I'm sorry."

The voice came from the door, goodness knows how long after she'd woken up. She recognised it instantly and she was staring at Jake with white hot fury. He had done this, he had let the Doctor die, had taken Clara from him. She knew it wasn't his fault, knew that blaming him was both petty and unreasonable, but allowing herself a moment to hate Jake was a moment where she wasn't missing the Doctor and Clara needed that.

"I thought," Clara replied icily and Jake winced slightly at her tone of voice. "That you were planning on dying." It was harsh but she didn't care. Jake bit his lip. "I thought that you thought I was worth dying for."

"You are worth dying for," Jake sighed, so softly that Clara wondered if he genuinely did care about her. It didn't feel like it. "The Doctor asked me to do something far worse. He asked me to live for you. Turns out, you're worth that too."

"Spare me the bullshit Jake," Clara snapped, because snapping at Jake was the only thing she could do. She couldn't snap at the Doctor, not anymore. "You didn't do it for me."

"No," he agreed, sitting on the end of her bed, despite the venomous look she gave him. "I didn't. I would have done, but I didn't. I did it for him. You're right, by the way. You're thinking that you should have died on that ship with him, that you'd have preferred to be given the choice. And you're right. I should have given you the choice. But I couldn't deny the Doctor his last request."

"His last request?" Clara swallowed, the meaning of that sentence crashing around her. She wanted to ask, needed to ask. She needed to know. But she couldn't say it, or anything close to it, the words failing to form, as she choked on them, so she asked something else instead. "How long was I unconscious?"

"A few hours," Jake replied, leaning closer and taking her hand. "I know what you're asking. What you're afraid to ask. I'm sorry Clara, but he's... The ship went up in flames, but he didn't use the TARDIS. I would have been here sooner but I was…I was scouring the wreckage. I found…"

"What did you find?" Clara demanded, her voice cracking, her entire body shaking. Jake wasn't looking at her now, but she was looking at him, knowing what he would say but trying her hardest to deny it was going to be said.

"Bones," he replied and Clara felt something inside her break, something she didn't realise that she still had left to be broken, but that nevertheless snapped in half at his words. "I found bones, the only things strong enough to survive the blast. I did a DNA scan on them and…well you don't need me to say it."

"Yes," she said suddenly, and he snapped to look at her. "Yes I do," she was shuddering, barely able to hold it together, but unless he said the words, Clara would never be able to feel okay again. "Say it."

"They were his. The Doctor's. He's dead. He's definitely dead."

And then came the flood. Of tears, of screams, of everything. Clara threw herself at Jake, pinning him to the floor and punching him uselessly. He didn't retaliate, he didn't make any movement to stop her, he just took everything she gave him, all the useless, half-hearted blows and shrieks of rage until Clara couldn't punch anymore and almost fell off of him. He sat up and wrapped his arms protectively around her as she sobbed.

"I know," he murmured as she shook. "I know."

"How could you?" Clara sniffed, crawling away from him, anger flaring up at him again. "How could you possibly know? I killed the Doctor. Me, not you. It was the poison that killed him, the poison that I got into him by killing Mr Clever. It's my fault. I killed the man I love."

"Exactly," Jake whispered and suddenly, the pieces of Clara's brain clicked into place. "I killed the woman that I loved. I killed my fiancé." Clara fell silent, looking at him with a strange mix of pity and understanding. "I used to be like you, young and happy, carefree and in love. Until about a year ago, just after I'd started training you."

Clara remembered that day, so very long ago. The day that he had come into training, looking like his whole world had fallen apart. And now she understood why. She understood how he felt.

"What happened?" she asked softly and Jake pursed his lips.

"There was a man," he said slowly. "A vicious man, a killer, a murderer of his own people, of everyone. He had been causing a lot of problems for a lot of people, so I stopped him. And as I loomed over him, he begged. He begged me not to kill him. Here was this man, this monster, this butcher. And I let him live. Because it was the right thing to do. I took him back to the base and I put him in a cell and I told him he could live out the rest of his miserable days there. And the next day, I went out on a routine mission. And I came back and I found her. Well, part of her. I found her foot, waiting for me."

"Jake…" Clara stuttered, but he was ploughing on regardless, tears streaming down his face.

"I found the foot of the person that I loved most in this whole world, lying in wait, taunting me. And I ran to the cell. Where he should have been. And along the way, I found her other foot and both of her hands. And when I finally reached the cell, there was the rest of her. Well, most of the rest of her. Her body, her beautiful body, sliced to ribbons. I found him, waiting for me of course. And he was wearing her head around his neck like a trophy. So I killed him. He wasn't my first kill, but he was the first one that mattered."

"What was her name?" Clara breathed. She couldn't think of anything else, but somehow hearing more about Jake's mystery woman made her forget briefly about the Doctor.

"Hayley," he whispered. "She had hair down to her ribs, the same colour as mine, dark as anything but it framed her face so well. And she had the most adorable little dimples when she smiled or pouted. And her eyes." He sighed deeply. "She had the most incredible eyes that I've ever seen, like sapphires. You could lose yourself forever in those icy blue eyes. And for eyes the colour of ice, they were warmer than any I've ever stared into. She was warm. She made me a better person, challenged me so much, never let me do things without running them by her. She was curious, that's how we met. She followed me, even though I warned her it would be dangerous. And she had the most incredible moral code, one that even I stuck to."

Clara could see in his eyes how much he loved her and he was staring at the floor now, weeping alongside her and for a moment she was comforting him, not the other way around. She would look back, in the years to come and never stop being grateful. Because in the moment when she was in the most pain she would ever be in, Jake managed to take her mind off of it, even if it was only for a few moments, before it hit her again like she was being hit by a bullet train.

"I'm sorry about Hayley," Clara murmured.

"I'm sorry about the Doctor," Jake replied.

They sat there in perfect silence, for what felt like an eternity. Clara felt like if the ground were to swallow her up whole, she would have no objections and every time she thought about the Doctor, and she couldn't think about anything else, her whole body felt like an explosion of fire and ice within her, simultaneously so hot she felt like she was going to melt and so cold that she felt she would freeze solid.

"How did you do it?" she whispered and Jake snapped to look at her.

"Do what?" he asked gently, though she suspected he knew what she meant.

"Go on," she asked and he winced. "How do you survive? How do you make the pain stop?"

"The pain never really goes away," Jake replied quietly and she had been suspecting that. "But I numb it. I wheedle it down so that it can't affect me, I stop feeling altogether. If I don't love, I don't feel pain, I forget she ever existed. It's the only way."

"How?" Clara was practically begging him and he winced visibly.

"I can't," he mumbled and she glared at him. "I promised the Doctor that I would look after you, he wouldn't want…"

"It doesn't matter what he wants," Clara said coldly. "You want to look after me, tell me how I can go numb, the way that you go numb, tell me how I can be like you Jake."

"You don't want to be like me," Jake tried but it was no good. "I'm broken and empty inside, I'm not even sure if I'm human anymore."

"That beats this," Clara told him. "That beats this feeling like I'm being ripped apart, every second, so please just tell me what to do."

"You drink," he sighed. "You have sex with strangers. You force yourself to stop caring. And you kill. You snap the necks of men like The Great Intelligence, because that Clara Oswald, is as close to a happy ending as you can get. You take the satisfaction. The moment of life and death and you use it. You break men who are beneath you because it is the only power you have left. And every single time you do it, you imagine it's the person responsible for the Doctor's death."

"But I'm responsible for the Doctor's death," she whispered, so quietly she worried he might not hear her.

"Exactly," he answered, looking at his feet. "Come on. Let's go and get a drink."

* * *

**_Six months later…_**

Clara walked into the bar and threw herself into a seat. She took a quick look around. It was horribly grotty, the smell would make anyone else want to gag and the men inside the bar (for there were no women that Clara could see) were all hideous and creepy, their little eyes widening hungrily at the sight of her. She stared down the man next to her, practically daring him to try his luck and slipping a hand down her loose fitting t-shirt. She was hoping he would. Any excuse to snap someone's arm. She ordered four shots of whiskey and lined them up in front of her, sighing contentedly and then knocking them back one after the other. The man beside her made a dart for the last shot before she went for it, but she managed to down the other three and then smash down the third glass on the man's hand, so hard that she heard the small bones in his fingers break. He howled in pain as Clara downed the fourth shot and ordered four more.

"You promised not to break anyone until I got here."

Jake almost sounded disappointed. Clara shot him a withering look as he slipped into the seat next to her and ordered a bottle of vodka, not messing about with shots today she realised and smirked slightly at him.

"He's fine," she said dismissively, as the man beside her howled in pain, holding his hand gingerly.

"Duck," Jake said lazily, but Clara had already ducked and Jake caught the swinging fist of the man and crushed his wrist. Clara popped back up and crunched her forehead into the man's, so he hit the floor and then she downed her shots. Jake swigged his vodka. "We have a job. I thought you might want it."

The others had gone. There was only Jake and Clara left now. Rory had had enough after he lost Amy, he couldn't be a part of the team anymore. He went to become a nurse somewhere, far across the galaxy, somewhere he was really needed. Clara didn't imagine that the work was much less grim, but if it took his mind off of Amy's death, then she supposed that was the main thing.

And River had decided she'd had enough. Losing Amy and the Doctor, not to mention Rory leaving her, made her decide that she didn't want to be a part of it anymore. Clara knew that she and Jake had forced River out, their behaviour increasingly anti-social but she didn't care. Jake told her River was joining private security somewhere that Clara had never heard of and that was the end of that. If Jake cared enough to check in on them, he hadn't spoken to Clara about it.

"What is it?" Clara asked, following Jake's example and dispensing with the shots, ordering a bottle of whiskey and slugging until her throat burned.

"Some hotshot professional made off with twenty-five billion credits," Jake replied with a slight yawn as he swigged. "I found the tosser easily enough, terminating him should be a piece of piss. Just thought you'd like the kill, it's been a while and you've taken to hanging out in places like his, hoping that one of these fuckers will be stupid enough to take you on."

"Oh, because the places we usually hang out are so much classier," Clara replied dully, running a hand through her dark hair, unwashed and untamed. "Fine, sounds like fun, I'll be back in a few minutes, I assume his location is already programmed into the TARDIS?"

Jake nodded and Clara stood, finishing the bottle of whiskey and dropping the bottle onto the man who'd tried to steal her shot, still lying unconscious on the bar floor. She made for the door, her eyes blazing. Nobody tried to stop her and then she was out in the fresh air of the night. She flicked her eyes to her watch as the TARDIS swept her up, depositing her on a ridge, in the middle of nowhere. There was a cabin, just over the hill and Clara could just about see a man inside it. She saw a blanket laid out just a few feet from her, a sniper rifle positioned perfectly, straight at the window of the cabin. Clara smiled. Jake had already set up for her then, how thoughtful.

She knelt on the blanket and picked up the rifle. It was her favourite one, just the right weight, so that she never had to adjust it. She could just pick it up and fire. She had never been a fan of snipers, but now they were a comfort to her. They had a power over life and death that couldn't be matched, they were clinical and cold and to Clara, the rifle knew how she felt. She leant forwards, adjusting the scope just a fraction, so that she could see the man, inside the cabin, every feature on his face. The green of his eyes, the beads of sweat on his forehead, the shape of his nose. The red of his blood as it would splatter on the far wall. Clara closed one eye, positioned and imagined that was the person responsible for killing the Doctor. Imagined that it was her. She smiled and took a grim satisfaction as she pulled the trigger.


End file.
